


The Hound of Mallard Grange.

by steeleye



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Call of Cthulhu (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: F/F, Horror, action adventure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 07:42:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26968426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steeleye/pseuds/steeleye
Summary: Part Two of ‘Kennedy’s Schooldaze’ and things haven’t really got any better for our two schoolgirl heroes. It’s Christmas 2000, Kennedy and her friend Jackie head north to Jackie’s ancestral home, little knowing the horror that awaits them!
Relationships: Kennedy (BtVS)/Original Character(s)





	1. Chapter 1

Kennedy’s Schooldaze Part Two.

The Hound of Mallard Grange.

By Steeleye.

.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Call of Cthulhu I write these stories for fun not profit.

 **Crossover:** Call of Cthulhu.

 **Spelling, Punctuation and Grammar:** Written in glorious UK-English (the original and best) which is different to US-English.

 **Timeline:** Christmas 2000, second in the ‘Kennedy’s Schooldaze’ series.

 **Words:** Eight Chapters of 3000+ words.

 **Warnings;** Some strong language and lesbian smut in later chapters.

 **Summary:** Part Two of ‘Kennedy’s Schooldaze’ and things haven’t really got any better for our two schoolgirl heroes. It’s Christmas 2000, Kennedy and her friend Jackie head north to Jackie’s ancestral home, little knowing the horror that awaits them!

0=0=0=0

Kennedy sat on the edge of her bed and stared down at the airline ticket in her hands, a big tear rolled down her face and splashed onto the printing, making the ink run.

“Crap!” she exclaimed quietly to herself, “Bastard!” she added for good measure.

Things had been going so well over the last couple of months, she’d rebuilt her life… okay, so she wasn’t quite as popular as she was before, but, at least she wasn’t a social leper any more. Even Mr Doyle (ex-spy and complete pig) her watcher, was behaving in an almost human way. Now this happened; now she was going to have to spend Christmas with Mrs McClusky, the Headmistress, and the other girls whose parents wanted nothing to do with them, not even at Christmas. She would never live this down, all the respect she had clawed back over the last couple of months would be lost and this time she would never get it back. Next she’d have to start wearing braces, as well as getting spots, terminal BO and athlete’s foot or something. 

“Life stinks!” she muttered as someone knocked on the door to her room. “Go away!”   
Wiping the tears from her eyes, she realised she’d been doing far too much crying lately, she was sixteen, she’d not cried this much since she was twelve.

“Kennedy!” A male voice shouted from the corridor, which meant only one thing, “Come-on girl, training…”

Feck training, thought Kennedy, feck the Council of Watchers and feck being the slayer.

“Feck ‘em all,” she said quietly, going to an expensive English Girl’s Boarding School had certainly widened her vocabulary. “I said go away!” she yelled at the door as she slowly ripped the air ticket in two and dropped it onto the floor.

The door handle rattled and Mr. Doyle burst into the room. Mr. Doyle, Ray Doyle to his shady friends, had once been a super-secret spy or something in a British security organization called CI5. Now he was a fifty-something history teacher at a girl’s boarding school; and Kennedy’s watcher.

“I said go away,” Kennedy snapped belligerently from the end of her bed.

“And I said ‘training’…come-on.” Doyle gestured towards the door.

“No,” Kennedy folded her arms across her chest, “and what’s the big idea bursting in like that…I could have been naked or something.”

“But you weren’t,” pointed out Doyle as he walked further into the room, “so get on your feet and get moving!”

Anger, frustration and disappointment built up inside Kennedy and blossomed like some poisonous flower, her hand moved to the neck of her blouse.

“If you don’t piss off,” she snapped, “I’ll say you tried to grope me.” 

Doyle hesitated for only a micro-second as he continued to cross the room.

“No one would believe I laid a finger on you,” he pointed out so sure of himself that not a trace of doubt entered his voice.

“Maybe not,” Kennedy’s fingers twisted in the material of her blouse, “but there’d be doubt, more gossip. You wouldn’t believe the stories that are going ‘round about you, me and Jackie.”

Jackie was Kennedy’s room-mate, a trainee watcher and her only real friend…that’s how bad it was. Kennedy’s only friend was the bright girl that everybody despised because they were secretly jealous of how clever she was. So, they bullied her and made her life awful, and this had included Kennedy, she’d been no better than anyone else until…until three months ago when Jackie had been kidnapped by a demon and nearly killed.

“I bet I would,” Doyle almost smiled as he sat down on the end of Jackie’s bed across from his potential.

Kennedy was Doyle’s third potential and by far the best that he’d trained so far, things that had taken hours of training for the other girls to pick up came easily to Kennedy, she was a natural. Not that he’d ever tell her that of course, that would just make her big headed and careless. Kennedy’s big problem was that she was a selfish, spoilt brat. However, she had improved since he’d forced her to move in with Jackie and isolated her from her old friends.

Doyle’s eyes fell from Kennedy’s face to the floor, he noticed the ripped up airline ticket. Bending down he picked it up, now he knew what the problem was. Kennedy was usually quite eager to start their training sessions, it was something she was good at and enjoyed. So for her to manifest this sort of reluctance to join him for training something ‘bad’ must have happened. Doyle looked down at the two pieces of ticket in his hand and thought he had the answer.

“You were looking forward to going home for Christmas, weren’t you?” Doyle spoke softly, almost sadly.

“What if I was?” sniffed Kennedy looking around for a tissue.

“And now you can’t,” observed Doyle screwing up the pieces of ticket and throwing them into the waste-paper basket.

“No,” Kennedy dabbed at her eyes with her tissue, “I bet it’s my wicked bitch of a step-mother’s fault.”

“Maybe so,” sighed Doyle, “but you still have training to do, you can take your frustrations out on one of the dummies,” Doyle actually smiled; a rare event where Kennedy was concerned.

“Yeah alright,” Kennedy sniffed one last time and then screwed up her tissue and threw it into the waste bin, first bouncing it off the table leg next to the bin; a much harder shot than the one Doyle had done. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be along…” Kennedy looked pointedly at the door, Doyle didn’t seem to notice. “...I need to get changed,” she explained as if talking to an idiot.

“Oh! Yes…right!” A little embarrassed Doyle got to his feet and headed towards the door, “five minutes,” he mumbled as he closed the door behind him.

Kennedy smiled to herself as she started to undress; it was surprisingly easy to fluster ‘old Doylie’ at times; she put on her track-suit and trainers and then sat down to tie her laces. She wondered just what sort of ‘spy’ Doyle had been; he certainly wasn’t any kind of James Bond that was for sure.

Bouncing to her feet Kennedy headed for the door, she paused and gave the room one last check. She’d found it wise to memorise how she’d left things just lately, some of her schoolmates had developed strange ideas about practical jokes. Satisfied she closed the door and jogged off down the corridor.

0=0=0=0

After training Kennedy felt a lot better; it had been ‘Introduction to the Quarterstaff’ today and she had kicked ass or arse as they liked to say in Britain. Whatever, she had knocked the stuffing out of the training dummy…literally. As she walked along the corridor back to her room there was almost a spring in her step, she even whistled a tune as she walked. She still didn’t know what she was going to do this Christmas. No way was she spending it with the ‘no hopers’ and Mrs. McClusky; and weren’t ‘Bridget’ and Doylie ‘shagging’…Mr Doyle hadn’t mentioned where he was spending the holiday. 

“Oh gross!” Kennedy stopped dead in her tracks at the thought of what the two oldies would be doing while she was sleeping across the hall, “Ewwwww!” she added screwing up her face in revulsion.

It was as she was trying to banish these disgusting thoughts from her mind that she noticed that the door to her room was open. All thoughts of her watcher and her headmistress getting sweaty together vanished from her mind; Kennedy became instantly ready for trouble. Jackie wasn’t the sort of girl to leave the door open, whether she was in or out. The door being open like this spelt danger with a capital ‘D’. Kennedy crouched against the wall ready for combat as she looked up and down the corridor, no one else was in sight; moving silently along the wall she eventually arrived outside her room. It was only when she was standing right by the door that she noticed the water on the floor and the faint but unmistakeable smell of ‘pee’.

“Oh no,” Kennedy sighed quietly before bursting into the room; she found Jackie sitting on the floor in a pool of ‘water’.

There was a plastic bucket and a few lengths of string that had been tied around the door handle and then to the bucket thus completing the booby trap, they lay on the floor next to Jackie. Her mousey blonde hair was plastered to her head and she was soaked in ‘water’. The girl on the floor rubbed her head and squinted up at Kennedy.

“Is that you, Kenny?” Jackie was unable to tell if it was her friend without her glasses.

“Yeah it’s me,” Kennedy sighed wearily and picked up Jackie’s glasses, she gave them a quick wipe with a handy towel before handing them back to Jackie; “How many times have I told you to push the door open and stand back before you come in?”

“I know,” admitted Jackie, “I forgot what with it being end of term an’ all,” she held out her hand for Kennedy to help her up.

Kennedy hesitated and wrinkled up his nose before gingerly taking hold of the out stretched hand; Jackie bounced to her feet and looked down at herself.

“Oh that stinks!” she started to pull at her tie and noticed Kennedy wiping her hands on the towel, “Oh they didn’t did they?” Jackie already knew the answer she just wanted Kennedy to confirm her suspicions. 

“Yeah,” agreed Kennedy, “someone peed in the water!”

“Oh that’s just nasty!” Jackie started to pull off her wet clothes, “There was no need for that,” Jackie was down to her underwear by now, “you’ll make them pay…right, Kenny?”

“Hmm?” Kennedy snapped back from the happy place where she had drifted off to, “Oh! Yes…they’ll pay for this…tenfold.”

Kennedy smiled at Jackie, even damp and smelling slightly of pee Jackie had a pleasantly rounded figure now, and it was all down to her…Kennedy that is. When they had first met Jackie had been the porky, smelly loser with absolutely no fashion sense. She’d only just come under Kennedy’s influence when she’d been kidnapped by this weird demon that fed on her. To cut a long story short, by the time Kennedy and Doyle had got Jackie back she’d looked more like a concentration camp victim than the tubby girl they’d lost forty-eight hours earlier.

As far a Kennedy was concerned it was a blessing in disguise, it was like having a total body reset. No need for all that dieting and all that tedious exercise (not that Kennedy minded exercise, but there were limits). She’d reshaped Jackie in her own image; put her on a healthy diet encouraged her attempts at joining in with school sports. Plus there had been all the shopping, no girl at Linton Park Academy had to worry about money. Jackie, like everything else about her pre-Kennedy, had a huge bank balance, Kennedy sighed wistfully at the memory of those happy shopping trips up to London.

Now Jackie was a good weight, fit, healthy and had wonderful breasts that Kennedy had trouble keeping her eyes off at times like this. Jackie wrapped a towel around herself and picked up her soap and shampoo and the myriad other things she needed for a shower that she’d not bothered with until a few months before.

“Can you clear up the mess?” Jackie noticed that Kennedy’s eyes had glazed over again, she was quite aware of the effect she had on her room-mate, which was why she teased the dark haired girl so unmercifully; wandering around in just her underwear, accidentally letting her towel fall off when she came back from having a shower, stuff like that. It was small revenge for the way Kennedy had treated her prior to three months and one demon ago; she also had an almighty crush on Kennedy (she always had) but was unsure what to do about it. She knew Kennedy ‘liked’ girls, she made no secret of it, but Jackie wasn’t sure about herself.

“Hmm, yeah, I’ll-I’ll get a mop and bucket,” replied Kennedy absently, “then I’ll join you in the showers.”

0=0=0=0

Kennedy and Jackie sat at their accustomed table in the dinning hall and watched their mortal enemies across the room. The three girls had in fact been Kennedy’s best friends, but they’d turned against her as soon as she started taking an interest in Jackie’s welfare. Kennedy didn’t really know what their problem was (and didn’t really much care). But they had made it their business to make Kennedy’s life a pain which meant Jackie got hit by the fall-out. No doubt this afternoon’s bucket was meant for her and hit Jackie by mistake. Kennedy’s ego would not allow for the possibility that the prime target was Jackie…things like that didn’t happen in ‘Kennedy-world’.

No, this was about her and her one true friend was getting caught in the crossfire. This made Kennedy mad; she supposed it must be a potential slayer thing. This was where the ‘Three Witches’ as she and Jackie had christened them, had gone wrong. Pick on a potential slayer would they? That had been their first big mistake.

“We could always do nothing,” suggested Jackie interrupting Kennedy’s rather blood thirsty thoughts, “I mean we’ve only got tonight to do anything and they’ll be expecting us…Why not wait until next term and get ‘em when they’re not expecting it?”

Kennedy was just about to open her mouth to tell her friend just how bad an idea that was when a crafty smile spread across her face.

“Lull them into a false sense of security you mean?” Jackie nodded her head to Kennedy’s comment, “Have I mentioned how clever you are lately?”

“No, not recently.”

“My bad,” admitted Kennedy the evil gleam in her eye getting brighter by the second, oh how the Three Witches would pay and pay again, Kennedy looked Jackie in the eye, “How good are you at casting spells?”

“You know Mr. Doyle doesn’t like magic,” Jackie looked worried, she’d tried floating pencils and stuff but it hadn’t worked out so well.

“Okay then,” Kennedy persisted, “how’s your science?”

“Better, much better…why?”

Just then Mrs McClusky walked into the room and interrupted Kennedy’s train of mayhem. ‘Bridget’, as the girls called her behind her back, made a speech about the true meaning of Christmas, and how everyone should remember to do their holiday assignments. Finally she wished everyone a Happy Christmas and a safe journey home.

“What are you going to do this Christmas,” Jackie asked before Kennedy could get back to plotting her revenge, “Doylie said you aren’t able to go home this year.”

“I suppose I’ll be stuck here,” Kennedy’s face fell at the thought of having to spend the holidays trapped at school.

“You could come home with me,” Jackie suggested, “It’d be no bother…in fact it would be fun!”

“Won’t your people mind?” Kennedy mentally weighed up the pros and cons.

“Oh they probably won’t even notice,” continued Jackie, a person more astute than Kennedy might have noticed the hint of pleading in the girl’s voice. “They probably wouldn’t notice if I’m there or not…so one more won’t be a problem.”

It was true that Jackie’s parents were incredibly rich and didn’t give a damn about their daughter. They’d not even visited her when she’d been recovering from being kidnapped; at least Kennedy’s father cared about her, even if he was overly influenced by the Evil-Step-Mother.

“We’ve got horses,” Jackie said hopefully, “we can go riding…an’ if you don’t like riding there’s tractor racing across the fields and father’s got some shotguns so you can shoot things if you want…please Kenny, please say yes.”

“If you’re sure we won’t get into trouble,” Kennedy replied slowly.

“Like I say they won’t even notice we’re there,” Jackie grinned like the Cheshire cat.

“Okay,” Kennedy finally agreed, after all it had to be better than staying at school with Mrs. McClusky, right?

0=0=0=0

**Mallard Grange, North Yorkshire.**

Smithers the butler watched from the front door as the tail lights of the Master and Mistress’s Range Rover disappeared into the gloom of a mid winter’s afternoon. There was a moment of silence before the rest of the staff appeared from behind the house. They laughed and sang snatches of Christmas songs as they crunched their way across the gravel courtyard to the minibus that would take them into Ripon (the local town) where they would make their way home to spend Christmas with their families. As he watched them climb aboard the bus he noticed a figure detach itself from the crowd and walk towards the door where he stood.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright by yourself, Mr. Smithers?” It was Mrs. Wetherby the housekeeper who spoke, she wrapped her coat tightly around her ample frame; a cold wind was coming in off the moors promising snow.

“I’ll be fine thank-you, Mrs. Wetherby,” Smithers smiled warmly at the kind housekeeper.

“Well if you’re sure,” Mrs. Wetherby started to move towards the bus but hesitated, “It’d be no trouble you know? There’s always room for one more at my sisters.”

“No, I’ll be fine here, thank-you for asking, Mrs. Wetherby,” Smithers forced another smile; he really wished people would just leave. “Someone has to look after the house and it might as well be me.”

“Well if you’re sure then…”

“I am.”

“Then I’ll wish you Merry Christmas.” 

Before he could do or say anything Mrs Wetherby ran up to Smithers and planted a wet kiss on his cheek before running off to get on the bus. Smithers stood in the doorway and waved the happy bus full of staff goodbye before turning and going back into the house. As he shut the door behind him, his hand went up to his cheek where Mrs. Wetherby had kissed him, she was a kind old soul, he thought as he walked slowly towards the kitchen to make his super. When the time came he would make her death an easy one. 

Helping himself to a bowl of venison stew Smithers sat down at the kitchen table and started to eat. It wouldn’t do to have to break halfway through the ritual to get himself a snack. He’d been planning this for some time now and he didn’t want anything to go wrong. His interest in global conquest had been piqued after he had found out that the stories about the old Brigadier and his demon hunting had been true. He would check around the house and the out buildings after he had eaten just to make sure no one had been left behind. Then he would start the first part of the ritual tonight. By the solstice he would be ready to perform the last part and then the ‘Old Ones’ would reward him. Oh the power he would have!

“MAW-HA-HA!” he laughed in the silence of the kitchen.

Putting down his spoon he glanced at the kitchen clock.

“Bugger!” He sighed, “Nearly time for _Emmerdale_ , wouldn’t want to miss that!”  
Getting up quickly he made his way into the Master’s Lounge and sat down in front of the huge TV to watch his favourite soap, for now global domination could wait.

0=0=0=0

Raising the binoculars to his eyes Tarquin watched as the lights went on and off in Mallard Grange. Soon the rich bastards living there (Tarquin conveniently forgot that his own parents were also ‘rich bastards’ and had paid for his rather expensive education) soon they would pay for the damage they were doing to the environment and the way they enslaved and slaughtered animals to line their filthy, blood soaked pockets. As soon as his friends got here the Carter-Brown’s would start to pay.

0=0=0=0

‘Emmerdale’; long running soap opera set in the imaginary northern farming community of Emmerdale. 


	2. Chapter 2

Watching her friend closely as they packed after breakfast; Kennedy drank in every detail of Jackie’s school uniform. Her white knee socks worn over skin-toned tights, the short pleated grey skirt, and the crisp white blouse that struggled to contain her luscious breasts. The pig-tails, the cute gold rimmed spectacles that made Jackie’s eyes look so huge. Kennedy sighed and wished they had more time before the bus came to take them to the train station. Already some parents had sent their chauffeur’s to pick up their daughters for them.

0=0=0=0

Feeling Kennedy’s eyes on her, Jackie wondered if her friend was ever going to do anything; she’d been standing there sticking her boobs out for what seemed like ages. She’d even worn her best up-lift bra (a bit wasted under the school blouse, but what the heck), so far all she had achieved was to give herself a slight back ache. Jackie sighed and relaxed her posture, completely failing to notice Kennedy’s little sigh of disappointment. 

Jackie checked the contents of her suitcase, everything looked in order; she straightened her tie, slipped on her grey school jacket and picked up her bright red beret. Looking Kennedy up and down she wondered if anything would ever happen between them and if it did, did she really want it to happen? Jackie was still unsure.

“Are you ready then?” she asked as Kennedy closed the lid of her own suitcase.

“Yep!” Kennedy grinned, “Lets go!”

**INTERLUDE.**

A Short History of the Carter-Brown Family.

The ‘Old Brigadier’ had come home after the Great War (he had still been a Major back then) to find to his surprise that he was the Squire of Aldfield in North Yorkshire. His eldest brother had died in the closing stages of the Somme battles back in 1916. His younger brother, Donald, was a doctor and wanted nothing to do with the running of a rundown estate in the wilds of Yorkshire. Reluctantly Rupert Carter-Brown had resigned his commission in 1920 and settled down to the life of a gentleman farmer…or so it had seemed.

In 1939 Britain once again found herself at war with Germany and Rupert answered his country’s call to arms and had his commission reactivated. He found himself in command of an armoured car regiment in the south of England. After the disastrous defeats in France during 1940, his unit was sent to the Western Desert where he stayed until being sent back to England to take up training duties in 1942. He stayed in England until 1945 when he wangled himself a posting to Thirty Corps HQ and so got to see the end of the war in Germany.

Returning home in 1946 all the life seemed to have drained from the old soldier. Some said it was the things he had seen in Germany at the end of the war. Others said that as they had defeated the Germans twice now the old man had nothing else to live for. Still others muttered darkly about the ‘Goings on up at the Manor’ as it was then called, back in the late 20’s and early 30’s. Whatever the reason the ‘Old Brigadier’ passed away in the winter of 1948. The Brigadier had married his childhood sweetheart in 1921 but his wife had died before they could have children. Heartbroken, the Brigadier had never remarried so after he died the estate passed on to the children of his brother Donald.

The ‘New Carter-Browns’ as they were referred to by the locals, took the estate in hand and turned it into a business. They grubbed out ancient hedges to make larger fields; they planted acres of pine trees to make a fast profit from timber. They built sheds for rearing pigs and calves and to house battery chickens. They took the profits and invested in more land, and they took every grant they could lay their hands on from Europe. By the time Jackie’s father took over the business in the late seventies ‘Carter’s Agro Industries’ was one of the largest and most profitable companies of its type in Europe.

0=0=0=0

The old commuter train rattled and clanked its way out of Maidstone West station heading for London and its mainline stations; with it, it carried the girl’s from Linton Park whose parents couldn’t even be bothered to send their chauffeurs down to collect them. In one of those rare moments when Kennedy thought about people other than those intimately connected to herself; she guessed that she and Jackie were the two girls most likely to have a good time this Christmas. For a moment this made her feel sad, not for the other girls going home to emotionally crippled parents who couldn’t connect with their children. No, Kennedy felt sad for herself and to a lesser degree for Jackie, but these feelings of self pity only lasted until Kennedy remembered something; she rummaged through the contents of her shoulder bag; grinning she produced a small bunch of keys.

“You know what these are?” she held up the keys triumphantly.

“Ummm…keys?” replied Jackie stating the obvious.

“Yes Miss Smarty-Pants,” Kennedy stuck out her tongue, “My father’s company has an apartment in London…he said I could stay there whenever I felt like it…fancy hitting the London shops before going up to the frozen north. How’s your bank balance?”

“Inflated,” grinned Jackie, “I think it could do with some slimming down.”

The rest of the journey was spent planning how they were going to go through every clothes shop in Kensington and Knightsbridge like a horde of Vikings ripping off the local monastery; they would of course forgo the axes. As they chatted excitedly Kennedy reflected that planning these expeditions was often more fun than the actual shopping; she thought about this again…no that couldn’t be right. There was nothing as much fun as shopping with your best friend, unless it was… Suddenly Kennedy’s imagination started to go down roads she really shouldn’t, however she found herself trying to remember whether the London apartment had single or double beds.

0=0=0=0

**Laver Banks Wood, North Yorkshire.**

“Explain to me once more,” whinged Belinda, Tarquin’s girlfriend, “what we’re doing out here in the freezing cold, instead of being in a nice warm pub somewhere?”

Tarquin looked at his girlfriend and did indeed wonder why he had brought her out here with him. He had thought that her commitment to the cause was strong enough to over look a little discomfort for the greater good. But, obviously he’d been wrong. It didn’t happen often but Tarquin was big enough to admit it when he made a mistake. Maybe when the guys arrived he’d send her back to the hotel. In the meantime he’d better tell her something.

“Look,” he began, “the Carter-Brown’s live in that house there,” he pointed across the frozen fields to Mallard Grange, “and that,” Tarquin pointed to a huddle of long low sheds a little further off, “is one of their concentration camps where they imprison innocent animals so they can make an obscene profit.” 

He got a blank look from Belinda as she huddled in her expensive down jacket. The look said, ‘So?’ Tarquin sighed again; yes he’d better send her back to the hotel and then gently dump her after the holidays.

“See we have to keep a watch on the place so we know where all the guards are,” he meant the local men and women who worked on the farm and at the Grange. “Then when the time’s right we can go down there and free the captives and let them enjoy life as nature intended.”

Belinda still had that puzzled ‘why should I care’ look on her face. Slowly a light came on behind her eyes; she had found a flaw in Tarquin’s plan. She had an annoying habit of doing this, another reason Tarquin wanted to dump her.

“But won’t they all die?” she asked, “I mean its freezing cold and they’re all used to living in nice warm sheds, won’t they starve and freeze to death?”

“NO!” cried Tarquin, god, she was such a silly bitch, she’d have to go. “Look that’s why nature gave them fur an’ stuff, an’ there’s plenty of grass and nuts and-and…stuff for them to eat.”

“Yeah,” agreed Belinda thoughtfully, “I suppose you’re right,” a memory bubbled inconveniently to the surface of her mind, “pigs don’t have fur.”

“Well we’ll give them all blankets!” Tarquin almost shouted in frustration, he turned back to watching the house…she’d got to go…soon!

“Oh,” Belinda looked around at the trees and fidgeted uncomfortably, she really needed to pee and she was wondering where the toilets were, “I suppose they’ll be alright then…pigs in blankets,” she smiled to herself uneasily, that didn’t sound quite right; anyway she really needed to ‘go’.

“Tarquin…” she pleaded.

0=0=0=0

**London.**

The two schoolgirls sat in the back of the taxi that was taking them to Kings Cross station and sighed contentedly. A day and a half of shopping had garnered them enough new clothes, accessories and make-up that they’d each had to buy themselves another suit case.

While they had been in London, Kennedy had introduced Jackie to the delights of dressing up and going to the local pubs. Here Kennedy flirted outrageously with the young officers from Knightsbridge barracks. At first Jackie had been outraged, but after a couple of double vodka’s she’d soon joined in. Eventually Kennedy had to almost carry her friend back to the apartment and pour her into bed…a single bed. Kennedy reflected that what with the state Jackie was in nothing would have happened even if they had shared a double bed…damn another opportunity missed!

While Jackie had been enjoying her first hangover (Kennedy had a high tolerance for alcohol) she organised their main shopping trip. At first Jackie had walked around the shops following Kennedy like a zombie, but by mid morning she brightened up and started to enjoy herself.

The girl’s second night in London consisted of an ad-hoc fashion show accompanied by large amounts of ‘Alcopops’ as they modelled the day’s purchases for each other. At about midnight the two girls collapsed on their own beds and gently snored the rest of the night away. At breakfast the next morning Kennedy mused that the mysteries of hot girl on girl action were going to pass her right by…maybe it was time to lay-off the booze?

0=0=0=0

Jackie looked down at the bacon and eggs that Kennedy had put in front of her and felt slightly sick. She’d never drunk so much in all her life…in fact she had never drunk any alcohol before in her life. She glanced up at Kennedy as she dumped a frying pan into the sink; she didn’t look at all the worse for the excesses of last night…it must be a potential thing…lucky cow! No, Jackie corrected herself, that was cruel. Having a high tolerance for booze didn’t compensate for the likelihood of dying a horrible death at a young age…maybe it was time for her to take their relationship to the next level before it was too late?

0=0=0=0

**Mallard Grange, North Yorkshire.**

Smithers stared with tired eyes at the kitchen clock; it would soon be time to perform the next part of the ritual. The whole thing was proving to be harder than he had at first thought. The rituals took hours to complete and always went on late into the night and he wasn’t a young man any-more he needed his sleep…and sometimes he got the feeling that things weren’t going quite the way they were supposed to. He had caught glimpses of some very odd things while he had been performing the rituals needed to raise the ‘Old Ones’.

Last night for instance; he seemed to have opened a portal to some distant terrible world where all was fire and great dry deserts. Looking back at him through the portal had been some terrible beast, like a cross between a bear and a crocodile, it dripped blue pus from its skin and had stared at him malevolently before the portal closed and the ritual finished.

Never mind, he thought, it would soon be all over and he would get his reward and all would have to bow down before him and worship him. If they didn’t of course that would be their look out…a slow painful death would await any who did not recognise his primacy.

Wearily Smithers got up and walked over to the fridge, he removed one of the bottles of pigs blood that lay there. He turned and walked out into the garden where he had carved the arcane symbols he needed for the rituals into the lawn. A cold wind cut through his jacket like a knife, he noticed a few flakes of snow whizz passed him and he shivered...mainly from the cold. Going to the centre of the symbols Smithers took the note book from out of his inside pocket, opening it at the right page he started to chant.

0=0=0=0

**Laver Banks Wood, North Yorkshire.**

Tarquin watched through his army surplus infer-red night-sight, he was alone now having sent Belinda and her negative energies and awkward questions back to the hotel. He watched as the silly old coot wandered around the Grange’s garden. It was difficult to see exactly what he was doing as the garden was surrounded by a windbreak of trees, he could only see him properly when he was at the house end of the garden…maybe if he could climb a tree he might be able to see what was going on. He caught a glimpse of something in the old man’s hand…a bottle! Well that settled it, the old fool was pissed, Tarquin turned his attention back to the concentration camp at High Lindrick.

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**How the Potential and the Trainee Watcher got from London to Yorkshire.**

It was like one of those nightmare journeys that got steadily worse the further you went; it was as if something was trying to tell them to go back. ‘Spend Christmas in the apartment in London’, it seemed to be saying. But, Jackie and Kennedy blundered on towards the fate that awaited them. It was as if every obstacle that nature and man put in their way only made them more determined to reach their goal.

The train journey from London to York had been pleasant enough. Kennedy had had the foresight to reserve seats (First Class of course) the day before. The cabbie that drove them from the flat to Kings Cross had been helpful and not overly talkative; this was a blessing as far as Jackie was concerned; she was still suffering from the excesses of the previous night.

Kennedy had paid off the cab at the station; where they easily found a trolley to carry their cases to the train which was sitting at the platform waiting for them to board. No waiting on cold railway platforms for them. A helpful porter took their cases and helped to find them their seats. The train left on time and moved smoothly northwards. The two girls spent a quiet hour and three-quarters dozing or sipping quite good coffee in their comfortable first class seats.

Then they reached York.

Like so many of Britain’s railway stations York was built back in Victorian times and was a wonder of Victorian cast-iron architecture. It had the longest platform in the country, and probably the world when it was originally built; the entire station was covered by a great plate glass roof to keep off the inclement northern weather. Unfortunately, due to the direction of railway lines or from pure stupidity and ignorance the whole structure was built in line with the prevailing winds and acted like an enormous wind tunnel.

The two girls watched miserably as the warm comfortable Pullman train pulled out heading for Newcastle and then on to Edinburgh. They stood and shivered surrounded by their cases as they wondered where they were supposed to go. Eventually they found the platform that the local train would stop at and take them on to Harrogate. The move from one platform to another involved a climb up the stairs of the foot bridge that crossed between platforms. There were no lifts or helpful porters this time and the girls had to struggle with their heavy cases by themselves. After getting to the correct platform they found that this platform was the only one exposed directly to the elements on the entire station. The wind seemed to come at them straight from Siberia; the waiting room was locked and the train was late.

The Harrogate train was dirty, cold, and slow, it appeared to stop at every village and cattle crossing along the line. The girls huddled together and shivered while tough northern folk mocked them for being ‘soft’ southerners. Luckily Kennedy understood none of this because their accents were totally incomprehensible to her.

At Harrogate things got really bad…they had to catch a bus; or a ‘Buz’ as the locals insisted on calling them. The trip from the railway platform to the bus/buz station was mercifully short. Someone had obviously made a mistake and built the bus station next to railway station. However, to make up for this lack of forethought someone else had arranged for the platform the girls arrived on to be on the wrong side of the lines form the bus station. After another mountaineering expedition and a thankfully short walk the girls found their way to where they needed to catch their ‘buz’. Once more they were mocked by the locals for their lack of toughness; the bus stop being completely open to the weather…by now it was snowing.

The trip from Harrogate to Ripon took them along what was supposed to be an ‘A’ road, to the girls it felt more like a roller-coaster (but not in a good way) as they flew through the grey, snow flecked afternoon at breakneck speed driven by a driver who seemed to be some sort of demon intent on their early demise. Their arrival in Ripon came none too soon for Jackie who was still suffering from the effects of too many Bacardi Breezers the night before. On coming to a halt in Ripon Bus (sorry Buz) Station, Jackie leapt from the bus and headed for the ‘Ladies’ her hand clamped over her mouth. This left Kennedy to struggle with the suitcases and stand under the inadequate shelter of a bus stop as she slowly froze to death and the locals mocked her once more.

As they stumbled into the market square the snow was coming down in blizzard like quantities. The pavements reflected the street lights wetly as Jackie led the way towards a taxi rank. The first cab they tried refused point blank to take them out to Mallard Grange it being out in the countryside and there being no guarantee that the cabby would be able to get back to town. The second cabby agreed to give it a go; for double fare…in advance.

Eventually the cab got them to the bottom of the drive that led up to Mallard Grange and sanctuary. The cab driver dumped them at the end of the drive and headed off back towards Ripon. Uncharitably Kennedy hoped that he’d get stuck in a snowdrift and his frozen body would not found until spring. Picking up their cases our two intrepid explorers made their way through the wild wind driven snow and up the drive to the front of the grim looking face of the Carter-Brown ancestral home. Jackie banged loudly on the door.

“Haven’t you got keys?” yelled Kennedy over the shrieking wind.

“No!” Jackie replied pulling her snow wet hair from her eyes, “My parents wouldn’t give me any,” she turned her back into the wind before speaking again, “I worry that they’ll have moved or something each time I come home.”

“Assholes!” commented Kennedy, she got no argument from Jackie.

Just then the front door was pulled dramatically open and a man in a rumpled suit stood silhouetted in the light from the hall. Both girls took a step back and clutched at each other; they gazed up at the tall elderly man with the mad starring eyes and wild hair. It took some time for him to notice them; when he did he looked down at them from his position in the door way.

“They are lean and athirst!” he shrieked his mad eyes looking out at the terrified girls while not actually seeing them. “All the evil in the universe is concentrated in their lean, hungry bodies,” the mad man seemed to drift away into some private hell for a moment, “or had they bodies? I cannot be certain…I saw them only for a moment…”

With that he gave an insane laugh, “MAW-HA-HA!” and ran off into the storm lashed night. The two girls stared after him for a moment.

“Who was that?” asked Kennedy after a terror frozen minute.

“Smithers,” Jackie looked at her friend, not seeing any reaction she added, “the butler.”

“Oh...” Kennedy looked out into the dark hoping and at the same time not hoping to catch another glimpse of the lunatic butler, “...can we go get warm now?”

“Yeah,” Jackie led the way into the house, “lets.”

As they entered the house and closed the door behind them the howl of a hound reached there ears carried to them by the storm.

“OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!” It cried forlornly.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Chip’d Thorn Farm, North Yorkshire.**

Over at Chip’d Thorn Farm, Farmer Hepplethwaite stomped across the kitchen and opened the back door into the yard.

“Get down, Shep!” he yelled into the snow streaked darkness, “Shut-up you stupid dog!” he added as he slammed the door closed again, “Bloody dog,” he muttered as he rejoined his wife at the kitchen table.

“You shouldn’t take on so, Obadiah,” Mrs Hepplethwaite poured her husband a cup of tea as he retook his seat at the table.

“I don’t know, Mary,” Obadiah sipped on his tea, “howling like that…it’s enough to put the fear o’ god into a body.”

“Aye,” sighed Mary Hepplethwaite agreeing with her husband, “do you want to come up stairs for a ‘quickie’ when you’ve finished y’tea?”

“Eeee, don’t mind if I do luv.” 

After finishing their tea the couple got up and headed for the bedroom, after all, it was nearly Christmas.

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**Mallard Grange.**

The wind rattled the door as the two girls stood and shivered in the hallway of Mallard Grange; Kennedy dumped her cases with a double ‘clump’ on the polished wooden floor and looked around things weren’t quite what she’d expected. She’d expected a sort of oppressive Victorian mansion with dark portraits of sinister people hanging on the walls. Instead the hall was painted in a sort of warm creamy colour; all the woodwork was highly polished and there were some nice water colours on the walls. The furniture was of a traditional wooden style that while being solid and sturdy didn’t otherwise overawe the hall.

“There’s a loo at the end of the hall,” Jackie dropped her own cases and walked down the hall, “there should be some dry towels in there,” she disappeared through a door, a few seconds later she reappeared and threw Kennedy a towel, “the kitchen’s through here I think.”

“You think?” Kennedy followed her friend through another door, “I thought you said this was your home.” 

“It is,” Jackie led the way into the kitchen that managed to look both old fashioned and ultra modern at the same time, “I just don’t know it very well.”

Kennedy watched as Jackie searched about for things to make tea, she really didn’t know where anything was. On the other hand, she knew where everything was at home back in Boston, when she’d been little she spent most of her time in the staff’s area of the house…it was a good place to hide from her step-mother. Eventually Jackie found milk, sugar and tea. After a little hesitation she worked out how to light the gas on the stove and Kennedy found some mugs. In about five minutes they were drinking hot tea around the kitchen table and feeling a little more human. Looking around the kitchen Kennedy noticed evidence of Smithers; there were dirty plates and cups in the sink. There were dirty tea spoons lying on the work surfaces and the kitchen bin looked a bit full.

“When we’ve drunk this,” Jackie lifted her mug, “we better have a hot shower and get out of these damp clothes…I think there’s a laundry around somewhere.”

“You do actually live here, don’t you?” Kennedy asked puzzled, “’Cause you don’t seem to know where anything is,” she smiled at her friend to show she wasn’t blaming her for her lack of knowledge.

“It’s hard to explain,” began Jackie, “you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“Look,” Jackie put down her mug and looked at the dregs of tea it still contained, “it’s alright for you. Your Dad loves you, from what you’ve told me even the servants are happy to see you…you only have your step-mum to worry about…and I know that’s bad enough…but…but when I’m here I’m like a ghost.”

“Huh?” Kennedy tilted her head to one side and reached across the table to touch her friend’s hand.

“I drift about this place and it’s like no one sees me, no one talks to me unless they have to.” Jackie smiled bravely as her eyes became shiny with tears, “I’ve been shunted from one school to another, this is the first time I’ve been back here in nearly a year.”

Kennedy walked around the table and sat down next to her friend; hesitantly she put her arm around Jackie’s shoulder and comforted her friend as she poured out her heartbreak to her one friend in all the world.

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**Laver Banks Wood.**

Huddling around his camping stove Tarquin cooked his dehydrated beef stew. He had set up camp in a hollow in the woods a few yards down from the ridgeline where he had been spying on Mallard Grange. He had pitched his Arctic Weather tent and camouflaged it just as he’d been taught in the CCF when he had been at school. He had been in the Combined Cadet Force until he had gone into the Sixth Form and he had realised that the military was just another way the establishment kept the ‘people’ under their control. In reality someone had told him this but of course Tarquin didn’t remember that and believed it had all been his own idea.

Glancing at his watch Tarquin wondered where Jimmy and Mike had got to; he rationalised that they had probably been held up by the weather. No doubt they would be along tomorrow. In the meantime he would be snug enough; he had his tent and his expensive down sleeping bag. There was his radio and he had a good book to read and an electric lantern, he’d be fine. Taking the pan off the stove he tasted the stew, of course it wasn’t real beef he told himself. He was a vegetarian; he’d know if it was real animal flesh.

He listened to the wind as it howled mournfully through the trees as he sat in his tent and ate his solitary supper. There was only one thing missing; he really wished he had someone to talk to. Tarquin was beginning to regret sending Belinda back to the hotel.

“Oh well,” he said to himself more to keep himself company than for any other reason, “what’s done is done,” he switched on his radio and lay down on his sleeping bag.

Mike and Jimmy would be here tomorrow and then they could get on with their plan.

0=0=0=0

**The Black Bull Public House, Ripon.**

Jimmy and Mike drained their glasses and put them back down on the bar top.

“Two more please, Miss,” Mike smiled at the young woman behind the bar, she came over and collected their glasses and started to refill them.

The two young men sighed in appreciation of the barmaid’s shapely legs and well developed bust.

“If yon toffee nosed pratt thinks I’m goin’ oot on t’moors in this weather,” Jimmy pulled out his wallet to pay the barmaid as she placed the refilled glasses in front of him, “he can think again!”

“I won’t argue with you, Jimmy m’lad.” Mike glanced out the window to see the snow coming down in hard white lines. 

They were an odd pair, Jimmy was short, thin, red haired, painfully pale and Scottish. Mike on the other hand was tall, well built, with a ruddy complexion and very English. The two young men first met at university where they became firm friends and shared an interest in; ale, rugby and girls, but not necessarily in that order. At the moment they were supposed to be indulging their other hobby of ripping off rich bastards with weird political views and no common sense. The fact that Tarquin, their latest mark, had an incredibly attractive girlfriend was just a bonus.

A cold wind blew through the pub as someone came in from the cold. Mike and Jimmy looked up and glanced towards the door where they saw Belinda, Tarquin’s girlfriend, standing just inside the pub dusting snow from her shoulders.

“She looks nae happy that one,” commented Jimmy.

“Well,” Mike drew himself up to his full height, “we’d better cheer her up then.” 

Smiling disarmingly Mike called to Belinda and waved her over, both men greeted her enthusiastically, only to see her burst into tears as soon as she joined them. Mike and Jimmy shared a look over the crying girl’s head, if she’d fallen out with Tarquin it might make their plan to bug-out easier.

“There-there,” Mike consoled patting her on the back, “get the young lady a drink,” he added winking at Jimmy.

0=0=0=0

**Mallard Grange.**

It was a sad fact that neither Jackie or Kennedy could cook, they had both been excused ‘Home Economics’, which included the ancient art of cooking, to make more time for their watcher and slayer training. Mrs McClusky, the Headmistress, was very understanding like that. Plus it helped that she was ‘shagging’ Kennedy’s watcher, so the school timetable could be bent to accommodate the two girl’s special needs.

Unfortunately this still left the two girls with little idea of how to look after themselves when out of the reach of Chinese Take-aways or Pizza Delivery services. Kennedy could fry, as she had proved that morning, but, frying had its limitations, deep frying curry for instance. So it was at nearly seven o’clock that night that the girls sat down to a full fried breakfast.

“Tomorrow,” mumbled Kennedy through a mouthful of fried bread, “we’ll have to check for food supplies, and you can study some cook books.”

“Why me!?!?” Jackie demanded swallowing half a sausage in her surprise, “I’m useless at cooking I give myself tummy-ache!”

“Thought of that,” Kennedy pointed her fork at Jackie, “first you’re the trainee Watcher right? We can’t have the potential slayer ruining her eyes squinting at cook books. Second, you don’t do the cooking, I do; you just tell me what to do…see? Very watcher and slayer like.”

Jackie looked suspiciously at her friend but couldn’t actually find a flaw in her plan.

“Okay,” she said still a little uncertainly, and then looked around the kitchen, they seemed to have used ever utensil in the room, “I think we should do the washing up.” Jackie saw the look of horror and disbelief on Kennedy’s face that said washing up was a job for the ‘staff’. “Not that I’m suggesting we should get our hands wet and covered in detergent,” Jackie added quickly, “I mean there must be a dishwasher around here somewhere...” she looked with bewildered eyes around the kitchen, “...now if I were a dishwasher where would I be?”

0=0=0=0

As the girls searched the kitchen for the elusive dish washer, across the hall in the games room a hunter older than time itself started to manifest itself. At first there was nothing, and then in the corner of the room furthest away from the fire place a wisp of smoke spiralled up from the floor. Slowly at first, but with rapidly gathering speed, billows of smoke soon poured from the angles here the walls and floor met. Then out of the smoke a hideous head appeared. About the size of a bear’s head covered in scales with blue puss oozing from is skin the thing looked about the empty room. A great red tongue more like a long prehensile tail than a proper tongue flicked from between rows of razor sharp fangs. The creature tasted the air. The one it sort wasn’t here, but it had been recently. The creature would come back later and hunt the trespasser; it would not be deprived of its prey. Slowly the head disappeared into the wall drawing the smoke back with it, like a film being reversed. It would be back to feast on the life force of the one that had dared to look in on its world, it would never stop until the prey was drained and its hunger sated.

0=0=0=0

**The Black Bull Public House.**

“He’s a complete pig!” sobbed Belinda between sips of gin and tonic.

“Och I know,” commiserated Jimmy handing her another tissue, Belinda blew her nose loudly.

“A complete swine indeed!” agreed Mike full of righteous indignation, “He should be made to pay.”

“He should?” Belinda looked up and glanced from Jimmy to Mike.

They sat at a table in a quiet corner of the pub, Mike put another Gin and Tonic on the table in front of Belinda, this would be her forth. Mike was beginning to think she had hollow legs.

“Och, aye,” agreed Jimmy this ‘comforting girls’ thing was easy all you needed to do was agree with them and feed them booze…nothing to it. “If you were my girlfriend I’d no be dragging y’ oot on a winter’s night just to hide in the woods.”

“What do you think I should do then?” sniffed Belinda damply.

“Leave him,” smiled Mike, “just pack up y’things an’ go!”

“You think?” Belinda brightened up and looked at her two knights in shabby armour, “Wouldn’t that be terribly unfair?” 

Both young men shook their heads, if Tarquin’s girlfriend couldn’t be bothered to stay with him why should they? Their rather warped sense of honour satisfied the two men raised their glasses to each other and started to plan for the rest of the holiday.

0=0=0=0

**Mallard Grange.**

“What’s upstairs?” Kennedy looked up the stairs that led up into what must be the roof.

“Ummm,” Jackie glanced up the stairs into the dark, “my father’s office and my old nursery…I expect they use that as a store room or something now.”

“Let’s have a look,” Kennedy started up the stairs from the first floor, where all the bedrooms were situated, intent on exploring the next floor.

Jackie was about to say no, but Kennedy was already half way up the stairs, sighing she followed her friend slowly up the steps where she found Kennedy trying the door at the top of the stairs.

“That’s Father’s office,” Jackie stopped and watched Kennedy rattle the door handle.

“It’s locked anyway,” Kennedy turned and walked over to the room opposite without a word she opened the door and barged into the room, “Oh my!” Jackie heard her say, “Come on, take a look at this,” Kennedy ordered breathlessly.

“No…no I don’t want to see,” Jackie gasped from the stairs, “they’ve turned it into a store or something, haven’t they?”

“No,” Kennedy came back out on to the landing, “you’d better come see.”

Gently Kennedy took hold of Jackie’s hand and led her into the old nursery.

“Oh my god,” whispered Jackie as she saw the room for the first time in ten years.

It was like no one had been in the room for years, everything was covered in dust and cobwebs, but it was obvious someone had. There was a distinct trail across the dust on the floor that led to a wooden chair that stood in the exact centre of the room. Otherwise it was as if it had been left exactly as Jackie had last seen it.

“I always wondered why I was never allowed back up here,” Jackie turned to take in every detail of the room under the harsh electric light.

There were the dolls she could just remember playing with, and a doll-house. The little desk and chair in front of a blackboard that still had simple arithmetic problems written on it. Shelves lined with children’s books and toys drew her eye as she remembered happier times. A time before a little girl with glasses had been frozen out of their lives by her parents.

“Can we go?” Jackie asked breathlessly, not waiting for an answer she turned and fled from the room.

For a moment Kennedy didn’t notice that Jackie had gone she was sort of mesmerised by everything. At home her nursery was used by that brat of a half-sister Madison as a kind of den, Kennedy hadn’t been in there for ages; not that she wanted to. This was like a shrine; this had been kept deliberately like this and someone came in to sit and…remember? Kennedy shivered at the weirdness of oldies; she turned and found herself alone.

“Jackie?” she called and left the room to the dust and the spiders, switching off the light she carefully closed the door behind her.

Finding Jackie sitting on the stairs sobbing into her hands, Kennedy sat down next to her and put her arm around her shoulder.

“Sorry,” Kennedy wasn’t too sure why she was sorry but something had upset Jackie and from past experience it was probably something she’d done.

“Why do my parents hate me?” sniffed Jackie leaning into the warmth of Kennedy’s body.

“Who knows?” Kennedy shrugged her shoulders, how was she supposed to know, she was sixteen with parent trouble of her own. 

Thinking she should say something supportive Kennedy added, “I don’t hate you…in fact I rather like you…now. I know we got off to a bad start.” Yeah, thought Kennedy, three years of bullying the fat spotty girl with glasses could be termed ‘a bad start’. Kennedy made a face, she really wasn’t much good at this sort of thing…but...but at least she knew she wasn’t so there was hope for her yet.

“Do you love me, Kennie?” the question took Kennedy a little by surprise.

“Well I…” she began but never got to finish what she was about to say.

Jackie kissed her…on the lips! And not just a peck, this was a mouth slightly open, not just friends giving each other a friendly kiss type of kiss. This was _waaaay_ beyond that; this was a ‘I want to go to the next level’ type kiss. Kennedy kissed back this was ‘nice’ she thought. She felt Jackie’s hand slide up from her waist to her breast. Oh yes, moaned Kennedy’s mind, this was so much more than just a friendly kiss…this was…this was…Oh! Tongues!

After what seemed like an eternity, one that Kennedy didn’t want to end anytime this side of judgement day, the girls came up for air. Jackie looked deeply into Kennedy’s eyes as if looking for something. Whatever she was looking for she seemed to find it.

“My bedrooms down the corridor,” she punctuated her words with kisses to Kennedy’s face and neck, her heart raced in her chest, “it’s got a double bed, do you want…?”

“Oh god yes!” gasped Kennedy as they both stood up and proceeded to stumble down the stairs, and along the corridor, heading for Jackie’s bedroom and bed.

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	4. Chapter 4

**Mallard Grange.**

Kennedy lay on her side and pulled the duvet up around her naked shoulder, she couldn’t help but grin. Last night had been; what were the words she was looking for? FREAKING AMAZING!!! She sighed contentedly and felt Jackie’s breasts against her back; she could feel her warm breath on her shoulder as the other girl slept on as the morning’s light filtered through the curtains.

Turning onto her back, gently dislodging Jackie, Kennedy stared up at the ceiling before she stretched luxuriously. She thanked a usually uncaring fate that she had followed her natural instincts and had held off having sex until she found a girl willing to go ‘all the way’ with her. She laughed quietly to herself; none of her girlfriends who had done it with boys could possibly feel like she did now after their first time, they’d always had a slight look of disappointment on their faces when they talked about it.

Jackie’s breathing changed as she started to wake up, she opened her eyes to see the fuzzy pink shape of Kennedy’s face six inches from her own.

“Kennie?” she mumbled.

“Yeah,” replied Kennedy sounding a little annoyed. “who else would it be?”

“Just checking,” Jackie smiled lazily and closed her eyes again. “how you feeling?”

“Oh I don’t know,” teased Kennedy, “alright I think…I woke up and found a strange naked girl in my bed.

“That’s bad,” Jackie agreed, “you have to look out for those strange naked girls…they just slip into a body’s bed without a by-your-leave or anything!”

“You don’t say?”

“I do…hmmm;” Jackie wriggled closer to Kennedy’s warm, silky, smooth body, “What you want to do today?”

“Do?” Kennedy’s hand drifted up to caress Jackie’s breast, “What do you think I want to do?”

“Thank god,” Jackie flipped the sheets back with sleepy gusto, “I thought you might want to get up or something.”

0=0=0=0

**Laver Banks Wood.**

Tarquin shivered as he stuck his nose out of his sleeping bag, he had been trying to put this moment off for a couple of hours, but a full bladder was forcing him out into the cold when zeal for the cause of animal rights couldn’t. He struggled from his sleeping bag and into his trousers and parker. He slipped his feet into his boots and then crawled over to the tent flap. Unzipping the tent he looked out at the world.

The sun bouncing off the snow covered ground blinded him for a moment, he groaned and wiped at his watering eyes. He clambered out of the tent and stumbled further into the trees to relieve himself. Under the trees the snow was only an inch or so deep. Even that faded away to nothing as he moved further under the pines. Zipping up his trousers he walked back towards his tent to boil up some snow to have a wash then he’d cook himself some breakfast. In the few minutes he’d been awake, Tarquin had decided that today was the day; he couldn’t be bothered to wait up here for Mike and Jimmy to arrive. He would make his ‘statement’ by himself if needs be; and then he would head off home for a hot shower and a warm bed.

0=0=0=0

**Majestic Hotel, Ripon.**

Sipping her coffee Belinda looked out at the snow covered lawn and thought how pretty it looked. Having spent a restful night at the hotel after having a couple of ‘G and Ts’ in the pub with the boys the night before she felt well rested. While nursing her drinks she had done a lot of thinking, she came to the conclusion that it was time to dump Tarquin, and then maybe she could find herself a boyfriend who loved her more than he loved farmyard animals; she giggled at the thought of Tarquin ‘loving’ cows and sheep.

Once she’d finished her breakfast, she would go up to her room, pack up and book out. Next she’d drive her father’s beat-up old Land Rover up to where Tarquin was camped and tell him she was fed up with his ‘wanna-be’ eco-terrorist ways, and she was off home and not to call her again; she thought she owed him that at least. Now for breakfast, she sighed contentedly as she studied the menu. What would she have? Kippers or the full English breakfast?

0=0=0=0

**Mallard Grange.**

Eventually Kennedy and Jackie got out of bed and showered, and then with great reluctance got dressed. Kennedy fried up a breakfast and started to feel her arteries clog and harden even as the bacon sizzled.

“Jackie?” she called from the stove, “Do you fancy going for a walk later? I really need to take some exercise.”

“Last night not enough?” Jackie replied with unexpected boldness making Kennedy stop her frying to stare at her friend, “What?” Jackie looked around thinking there was something wrong.

“Obviously sex brings out the brazen hussy in you,” Kennedy placed Jackie’s breakfast in front of her, “no I need to get out and stretch my muscles, and so should you.”

“No running please, Kennie?” begged Jackie stuffing fried egg into her mouth.

“We’ll just have a brisk walk or something,” reassured Kennedy; of about five miles, she added to herself.

“We’ve got to check on stuff first,” Jackie pointed out as she demolished her breakfast, “like whether we’ve got enough food, and where everything is…okay?”

Kennedy nodded her head, and again wondered at how Jackie didn’t know where everything was.

0=0=0=0

After breakfast the two girls found their way down into the basement. It had taken them some time to find the door under the stairs in the hall, and ten minutes searching to find the key. After unlocking the door the girls walked down a short flight of stairs to find themselves in a large well lit room. The whitewashed walls were almost completely hidden by shelves and freezers. The shelves held mainly canned goods and there were some racks containing root vegetables and fruit. Jackie opened the nearest freezer to find it full of frozen meat.

“I think we need to take some upstairs to defrost,” she suggested.

Kennedy nodded absently as she studied the large gas fired central heating system that hummed in the corner opposite the stairs. Quickly losing interest her eyes fell on a door next to the central heating.

“What’s in here?” she called as she opened the door and burst into the darkened room beyond.

“Why bother asking if you’re going to burst in anyway?” Jackie pointed out as she joined her friend in the doorway.

Jackie found the light switch and turned on the lights to find the room full of junk.

“Cool,” Kennedy whistled softly, as she stepped further into the room that resembled an Aladdin’s cave with its discarded treasures.

Jackie turned to look around and screamed. Kennedy spun quickly ready to defend her girlfriend and then relaxed. Jackie was being menaced by an old moose head that had been dumped on top of an old chair.

“Aww poor Jackie,” giggled Kennedy putting her arm around Jackie’s waist. “did Mickey Moose fwighten poor Jackie?”

Jackie punched Kennedy half-heartedly on the arm.

“Horrible thing,” she gasped slowly recovering from her fright.

“What, me or that?” Kennedy pointed at the Moose head.

“Both!” Jackie smiled to show she didn’t mean it; Kennedy smiled back and kissed her lightly on the lips.

Not so long ago Jackie would have fled crying from an exchange like that, Kennedy pushed herself between two old cupboards and further into the room.

“Hey!” she cried excitedly, “Skis!” Kennedy rummaged about pulling and pushing at things to make room, “Can you ski?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Never tried,” admitted Jackie as she helped by taking the things that Kennedy passed back to her.

“Darn!” Kennedy said in disgust after a few minutes work. “There’re only three of them…and I can’t see any ski boots.”

“Come on, Kennie,” Jackie waved away the dust from her face, “it’s horrible down here we…”

“Umm, Jackie,” Kennedy turned to search out her friend, “I’ve found another door.”

“A what?”

“Another door…it must have been covered up by all this junk for ages,” Kennedy moved a few more bits and pieces so she could get at the portal properly.

“Is it locked?” Jackie was suddenly interested; she couldn’t remember anyone mentioning another room down here.

Grasping the big metal door handle Kennedy leaned against the door to no avail, she put her shoulder against the door and pushed hard, still it didn’t budge. Next she felt around for a keyhole but didn’t find anything on the smooth metal surface to suggest any type of lock. Then an idea came to her mind.

“I was being a few fries short of a Happy Meal for a second,” she muttered in self disgust and pulled.

The door groaned loudly on rusty hinges as she slowly dragged the door open, Jackie fought her way over to stand next to Kennedy and add her weight to opening the door. Eventually they pulled it open enough to get into the room. The light behind them reflected off what looked like metal surfaces. Jackie’s fumbling fingers felt around and snapped on the light switch. Much to their surprise the light actually worked and the room was flooded with electric light.

“Bloody hell!” gasped Jackie.

“Wow!” breathed Kennedy in wonder.

0=0=0=0

**Laver Banks Wood.**

Lowering the binoculars from his eyes Tarquin caught sight of the cuff of his camouflaged jacket.

“Damn!” he breathed, his breath misting in the air, he’d not thought of that; with all the snow on the ground the greens, browns and black of his jacket would make him stand out blackly against the snow.

Oh well, he thought, it can’t be helped. Shrugging the problem away he scrambled down the slope to his camp. Quickly he hid the binoculars back in his tent and then pulled out the bag containing his ‘breaking and entering tools’. Checking the contents he swung the bag over his shoulder and made his way back to the top of the bank.

He had grown bored waiting for any of his confederates to join him, and anyway he had decided that the time for action was _now_ , he would strike a blow for animal rights by himself. Staring out over the snow covered fields he pondered the problem of getting from his present position to the ‘concentration camp’ situated on the other side of the Grange.

He studied his Ordinance Survey map, and smiled, this would be too easy. It was a round about route but it would take him straight to the Death Camp and he’d be under cover all the way. Climbing to his feet and buoyed up by a feeling of self-righteous destiny, Tarquin set out on the first leg of his journey.

0=0=0=0

Stumbling through the last of the trees Tarquin tumbled out into the open behind one of the death camp’s long low sheds. It had taken him a good hour to cover the mile from his camp to the so-called farm. The first leg of the journey had been along a track and he had made good time. Next he had come off the track and worked his way along a wood-line that hid him from the Grange and the farm. It was the last leg that had taken all the time. He’d had to make his way through the woods that led straight to the edge of the farm. The need to move quietly through the thick tangled undergrowth caused him to slow right down and it had taken him half an hour to cover the last third of his journey.

Running up to the first shed Tarquin looked around to make sure he’d not been spotted. There appeared to be no one about, this was odd. What little Tarquin knew of the running of one of these hell-holes told him that they needed fairly constant supervision. He worked his way along the shed wall until he came to a pad-locked door. He pulled his bolt cutters from his bag and after a short struggle had the door open.

Stepping into the darkness of the shed the first thing that struck him was the complete silence. Fumbling in his bag he pulled out a torch and shone it around the darkened interior. He didn’t know whether to feel happy or sad; the shed was completely empty of animals. Stuffing his torch back into his bag he went outside again and moved onto the next shed.

0=0=0=0

Standing facing the last two sheds, Tarquin wondered why he had bothered. Every shed he opened so far had been empty. In fact they had been more than empty; they had been swept clean and stripped of anything useful. It looked like ‘Mother Brown’ was giving up the Factory Farming business. Tarquin sighed with frustration; what was he supposed to do now? As he asked himself this question his eyes fell on the Grange. What interesting snippets of information could he find in there? Walking back into one of the sheds he found an empty office from where he could watch the house. Pulling up an old box he sat down to wait.

0=0=0=0

**Mallard Grange.**

Kennedy ran her fingers lightly over the cold, hard, lightly oiled metal of the weapon and sighed, she revelled in the almost sensuous feel of the cold metal and warm woodwork, Jackie coughed behind her.

“Do you two want to be alone?”

“What?” Kennedy turned in confusion, “Oh sorry.”

“Okay,” Jackie glanced around at the racks containing rifles and pistols, “what’ve you got there that’s so special?” she joined Kennedy to look at the weapon her girlfriend had been drooling over.

“A Model 1917, .303 calibre Lewis light machine gun,” Kennedy sighed again with ill concealed desire.

“How do you know that?” Jackie studied the weapon for a moment; to her it just looked like a big gun, “Is it some sort of potential slayer ability to instantly recognise any type of weapon as soon as you set eyes on it?”

“No!” Kennedy replied as if stating the obvious, “No, its written on the side…look.” Kennedy pointed to some writing engraved just above the pistol-grip.

“Oh!” Jackie bent down to squint at the writing, “Oh yes I see.”

The girls continued their investigation of the ‘armoury’. The walls were lined with racks holding rifles and a few revolvers. Jackie opened a cupboard under a workbench to find it full of wooden boxes; she read the lettering painted on the sides of each box.

“Looks like there’re plenty of bullets,” she stood up and turned to face Kennedy who stood on the other side of the room fingering a huge knife. “Careful!” Jackie warned, “What’s that?”

“Bayonet,” answered Kennedy with poorly hidden weapon lust, “eighteen inches of cold steel,” she ran her fingers along the back of the blade as the metal flashed in the electric light, “They don’t like it up ‘em ya know,” she jabbed upwards with the blade.

“No,” agreed Jackie taking the bayonet from Kennedy’s hand, “I don’t suppose they do.”

“They’d have to be nuts if they did,” giggled Kennedy returning to her old self, “wonder what’s in there.” 

She pointed at a cupboard on the wall above the workbench; it was locked with a large old pad-lock, a sure sign that it held something interesting. Grabbing the bayonet from Jackie’s hand, Kennedy slipped it under the hasp and heaved upwards. There was the sound of tearing wood and after a short struggle the padlock and hasp came loose and the door was pulled eagerly open.

“What we got?” Jackie wanted to know.

“Hmmm,” considered Kennedy as she took even more weapons out of the cupboard and laid them on the workbench, “More pistols…automatics this time…boxes of bullets for them,” A few cardboard boxes joined the pistols on the bench. 

“Oh cooool!” she pulled out what looked to Jackie like a small cannon; Kennedy’s face split into big grin, “Sawn off shotgun!”

“So?” To Jackie it didn’t look all that special, in fact she didn’t really understand Kennedy’s sudden fascination with all these guns.

“Devastating at short range and you don’t have to aim it too much.”

“Aim?”

“Look,” explained Kennedy, “if you took off your glasses you’d still be able to hit stuff with this.”

“Oh.” Jackie wasn’t really listening she had been distracted by something at the back of the cupboard.

Reaching up she took down a large glass jar with a screw top, rather like the sort that you’d keep pickled eggs in. This one, however, didn’t contain pickled eggs or indeed pickles of any sort. Jackie shook the jar and looked at the contents closely. Why would anyone lock away a jar of ash, she wondered. Shaking the jar again she noticed the small bits of what might be bone mixed in with the ash. Giving the jar a final shake something ‘tinged’ against the glass. Holding the jar up to her eyes she saw a rather garish jewelled ring in amongst the ash.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” she mumbled to herself as Kennedy rifled through the boxes she’d found.

“You know what bugs me about all this?” Kennedy studied a bullet that she held in her hand.

“Like, why there’s a room full of guns under my house?” Jackie set the jar down on the bench.

“No apart from that,” Kennedy tossed the bullet up into the air and caught it between her teeth. After going “Ta-daaaar!” and giving a little curtsey she spat out the bullet and continued with her explanation. “This place must have been undisturbed for years before we came in…I mean all that stuff outside must have been there for ages.”

Jackie nodded her head in agreement.

“So no one’s been in here for ages an’ ages, right?”

Again Jackie nodded.

“So why no dust or cobwebs?” Kennedy turned around gesturing to all the weapons and the room in general; there was indeed no sign of dust or anything, “And look at this bullet.” Kennedy held up the bullet between her thumb and fore-finger, “As shiny as the day it was made…not a trace of tarnish.”

Jackie looked closely at the bullet; apart from some Kennedy-spit the bullet certainly looked new and polished.

“Weird,” Kennedy pointed out.

“Yeah,” agreed Jackie slowly.

0=0=0=0


	5. Chapter 5

**Mallard Grange.**

After a lunch of soup and soggy bread rolls defrosted in the micro-wave; Jackie and Kennedy put on warm jackets, long thermal socks and green wellies. Pulling on brightly coloured woolly hats and gloves the girls ventured outside. They tramped across the fields behind the house and climbed over the fence that separated a farm track from the field, they squeaked through the snow following the track up towards the woods.

As they walked their breath rose in billows around them, Jackie explained that her parents owned a stable on the other side of the woods where they might find the stable foreman and arrange to take a couple of horses out for a ride. Kennedy shrugged her shoulders non-committally, she had other plans, plus she wasn’t quite sure if she knew how to ride a horse; she patted the heavy bulge under her jacket and smiled to herself.

0=0=0=0

**High Lindrick Farm.**

Watching from the empty office Tarquin saw the girls walk up the farm track and into the woods. It seemed obvious to him the these, no doubt spoilt brats, would be gone for some time as they oppressed the local farming folk by riding horses across their fields while slaughtering the local wildlife. Slipping out of the shed Tarquin made his way across the crisp snow towards the Grange.

Walking boldly up to the front door, Tarquin knocked loudly, this was his way of checking if there was anyone home. Receiving no answer he walked quickly around to the rear of the building and tried the backdoor. To his amazement the door was unlocked, opening the door he stepped into the kitchen. Looking around he saw the discarded soup bowls on the kitchen table, the dirty plates in the sink, his nose was assailed by the smell of soup, and his tummy rumbled reminding him that he had only had two oat blocks mashed up in powdered milk for breakfast. He gazed longingly at the saucepan on the stove; no maybe later if there was time he told himself. First he must complete his mission.

Moving rapidly through the kitchen and out into the hall he paused to look at the paintings on the wall. He wondered at the fate of the artist who had struggled to paint those pictures and then been ripped off by the leeches on society that lived here. Tutting to himself he opened a door, and found the sitting room. Closing the door again he tried the one opposite, this time he found a dinning room. Scratching his head Tarquin looked upstairs; he was looking for an office. There must be an office that these evil swine ran their vile empire from.

After finding only bedrooms on the first floor, Tarquin climbed the stairs to what had once been the loft space. Here he found three doors leading off the landing. The first door he tried was locked, this must be it, he reasoned, it was the only door he had found locked so far. Searching in his tool bag Tarquin produced a crowbar and proceeded to jimmy open the door.

0=0=0=0

**Galphay Wood Stable.**

Loading the big old revolver, Kennedy eyed the three crows that were sitting on the fence who were eyeing her right back. It was odd but she was convinced they were watching her. The girls had found the stables deserted; not just deserted as in no one there but deserted in the ‘no one was coming back’ sense. The building was completely empty; the stables had been swept clean, there was hardly a sign that they used to house horses. The stable office was bare and again swept clean.

“Remember I said I had this fear that my parents would move out while I was at school?” Jackie looked up at the stable building wistfully.

“Hmm?” Kennedy slipped another cartridge into the revolver’s cylinder as she watched the crows; they were really starting to bug her, “Sorry? What? Yes!”

Jackie gave her friend a tight lipped smile.

“Well I think that’s what they were planning,” she turned to survey the fields to find them totally devoid of horses, “only I spoilt it by coming home unexpectedly.”

“Oh come on, Jackie,” Kennedy snapped the revolver closed and looked for a target, “there’s bound to be a logical explanation…it isn’t all about you, you know?” She raised the pistol and aimed at a fence post about twenty yards away, “Watch your ears.” 

Kennedy noticed that the crows seemed to be looking in the direction she was aiming. After thumbing back the hammer she pulled the trigger. The revolver went off like a small cannon and almost jumped out of her hand, Jackie screamed holding her hands over her ears and a sapling about a yard to the left of the post broke in two as the bullet smashed through it. The crows made a terrible noise, but didn’t fly off; in fact they appeared to be laughing at her.

“Freaking hell!” gasped Kennedy as she tried to shake some life back into her hand and wrist.

“That was a good shot,” congratulated Jackie taking her hands from her ears.

“What? Oh yeah, good huh?” Kennedy lied while not looking at her girlfriend. “Okay let’s have another go...” 

Kennedy fired the rest of the bullets in the direction of the fence post. Leaves and branches were sent flying as she hit everything except what she was aiming at. Looking at the smoking weapon in her hand, she scratched the back of her head, the sights must be off, she told herself. All this time Jackie was clapping her hands and jumping up and down with pleasure.

“You’re a fantastic shot with that thing!” she gushed, “Mr Doyle always said you were a good shot; but that was really impressive.”

Kennedy glanced back at Jackie to see if she was being sarcastic, she only saw a look of genuine pleasure on the other girl’s face. The crows however seemed to be having hysterics and were having difficulty staying perched on the fence.

“Yeah,” muttered Kennedy and broke open the revolver.

Empty cases feel into the snow as she reloaded, watching the crows out of the corner of her eye, they just didn’t seem ‘right’ to her. Surely they should have flown away at the sound of the first shot. Kennedy was convinced they were watching her, and worse…they were talking about her; she thumbed the last two cartridges home and closed the revolver again. This time she took up a two handed stance, she was determined to hit what she was aiming at this time. Bringing the heavy revolver up slowly she centred the foresight on the middle of the post, she pulled back the hammer and then… Pivoting on her hips she turned to face the crows. The biggest of the three noticed her change her point of aim and its eyes seemed to grow bigger as it looked down the barrel of the revolver.

Firing the bullets sent pieces of the wooden fence flying in all directions, finally the hammer clicked on an empty chamber and kennedy let the pistol drop to her side as she watched the smoke clear.

“What did you do that for?” demanded Jackie angrily. “Poor crows!” she slapped Kennedy’s arm.

Kennedy ignored her friend and watched as the three crows stared back at her with their little beady yellow eyes. The crows seemed to straighten their shoulders before smoothing down their ruffled feathers. Then, one by one, they stretched their wings and flapped off lazily away across the fields. Kennedy watched them until they disappeared over the trees.

“That’s just not natural,” she breathed.

“What?”

“Those crows,” Kennedy emptied the revolver again but didn’t reload.

“What do you mean?” Jackie looked at her friend as if she was slightly mad.

Kennedy opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it, instead she just smiled.

“Nothing…nothing,” she put her arm around Jackie’s shoulder, “potential thing…lets go home hmm?”

“Yeah okay,” Jackie put her arm around Kennedy’s waist and moulded herself against her body. “we’ve got to try cooking tonight, so we better get things ready.”

0=0=0=0

**The Grange.**

Tarquin sat at the desk and held his head in his hands, around him lay papers scattered on the floor and across the desk. He just couldn’t believe it; his entire world view had been shattered. People like the Carter-Browns didn’t change, there had to be something more to it; it appeared that the Carter-Brown’s were putting themselves out of business!

Having noticed the growing public concern about factory farming methods and people taking more interest in animal welfare the Carter-Browns had re-examined their business practices. Mr and Mrs Carter-Brown experienced a change of heart and decided to sell up most of their holding intending to go into the organic farming business based on a smaller farm centred around the Grange.

He just couldn’t believe it, Tarquin shook his head in a mixture of sorrow and disbelief, this couldn’t be true. There had to be some sort of plan, maybe they were going to subvert or discredit organic farming methods. Whatever it was, Tarquin had to find it and shout it from the roof tops; only he could save the world!

So intent was Tarquin on trying to find out what the Carter-Brown’s were really up to that he failed to notice the wisp of smoke that drifted up from the floor in the corner of the room. Slowly the smoke went from a wisp to great billows of greyish white smoke that built up until it filled the corner, only then did Tarquin notice something was amiss. Turning and seeing the smoke for the first time he gasped and swore.

“Bloody hell!” he jumped up from his chair.

His mind raced, there must be some sort of booby trap set to destroy all the incriminating evidence, he had to save the paperwork it was the only way he could prove that the Carter-Brown’s were doing whatever it was they were doing. Remembering having seen a fire extinguisher on the landing he headed out the door.

As the door slammed shut behind him, a creature stepped out of the smoke and looked around the room; it lifted its head and sniffed the air. A low rumbling growl came from deep within the monster’s throat as it prowled across the office. It sniffed at the chair where Tarquin had been sitting, turning its head towards the door the beast yawned exposing a mouthful of long sharp fangs.

Tarquin burst back into the room, at first he was too busy reading the instructions on the fire extinguisher to notice the monster standing by the desk, the beast growled loudly and raised itself up on its hind legs. Puzzled Tarquin looked up and caught sight of the creature for he first time, he screamed.

“Fucking hell!” He gulped as the beast took a step towards him and appeared to laugh at his surprise.

Tarquin saw a creature, about the size of a large bear, covered in blue pus that dripped onto the floor from its scaly skin. It crouched on its back legs and reached towards him with huge talon tipped paws. The fire extinguisher fell from Tarquin’s numbed fingers and thudded onto the floor. He screamed again and tried to make it out of the door, as he turned to run the monster pounced.

Screaming shrilly as he felt the creature’s talons tear into his leg. Tarquin kicked himself free and scrambled franticly for the door. Pulling himself from the creature’s hold he made it through the door and slammed it in the monster’s face. He leant against the door holding it closed with his body, the wound on his leg burnt as if it was on fire, he sobbed with the pain. The pain, however, cleared his mind and he was able to think rationally.

It was obvious to him what had happen. The thing on the other side of the door must be the result of the Carter-Brown’s genetically modifying a cow or something and it going horribly wrong! He knew that they were hiding something and if he dug deep enough he would find it and be able to expose the Carter-Brown’s for the evil bastards they really were.

The door jumped under his hands as the monster charged into it as it tried to break out. Tarquin had no illusions about being able to hold the creature for more than a few minutes. The only thing that was holding the creature was the fact that door opened inwards and the beast obviously didn’t know how to open doors.

Moving as quietly as he could Tarquin started to limp down the stairs. As he got to the landing half way down to the first floor he noticed smoke billow out from under the skirting boards, for a moment the thought that the house must be on fire. He turned to look back up the stairs; there was no escape that way, fire or not he had to go on down. Turning to continue his escape Tarquin found himself inches away from the monster’s fangs. He screamed in fear and panic.

The monster roared and opened its mouth wide, Tarquin cried out in terror and pain as he fell backwards onto the landing, desperately he tried to crawl away from the beast. It caught hold of his uninjured leg with one of its taloned paws and dragged him kicking and screaming towards its jaws. Using its paws to hold him by the shoulders the beast picked him up and held him against the wall. Tarquin struggled to free himself, but as he had almost got himself free (the creature didn’t seem to be that strong) a long pink tongue flicked out of the creature’s mouth and stabbed him in the chest with the sharp bone barb on the end of its tongue.

Tarquin screamed in pain as the barb entered his chest and he felt something being pumped into his body. Suddenly he found himself on the floor and the monster had gone. Sobbing with relief he sat up and rested his back against the wall. Gasping he pulled with trembling fingers at his clothes to expose the wound in his chest. Ripping open the t-shirt that formed his last layer of clothing Tarquin found a neat hole about three-quarters of an inch across in the centre of his chest.

The barb must have gone straight through his breastbone, but strangely it didn’t hurt nor was it bleeding that much. By comparison the wound on his leg was much worse. Pulling himself to his feet he felt a little dizzy and needed to hold on to the banister as he made his way down the stairs to the first floor. He remembered seeing a phone on the table in the hall. He had to get down there and call an ambulance before the dizziness overcame his efforts to move. He looked down into the hall and watched as the house started to spin around him, anxiously he grabbed for the banister. The world spun around him and with a gasp he fell forward down the last flight of stairs into the hall, breaking his neck as he came to a halt on the last step.

0=0=0=0

“What shall we have for dinner then?” asked Jackie as she rested her hand on the backdoor handle.

“What’s easiest?” Kennedy suddenly realised just how hungry she was.

The door moved under Jackie’s hand and she turned worried eyes on Kennedy.

“The doors open,” she gasped.

“Did you lock it?”

“No!” Jackie frowned at Kennedy, “There’s no one ‘round here to break in, so what’s the point…anyway it’s open as in not closed.”

For a moment Kennedy was puzzled by what her friend had said; finally the penny dropped and She realised what Jackie was getting at. Immediately her eyes fell to the snow covered ground and saw five sets of tracks, hers and Jackie’s going out and then back, and another much larger set going into the house.

“Behind me!” Kennedy ordered as she pulled out the revolver from her pocket, Jackie gasped and scurried to hide behind her girlfriend.

Remembering that she hadn’t reloaded the revolver Kennedy started to stuff fresh rounds into the cylinder, she noticed to her horror that her hands were trembling.

“Come on Kenny,” she muttered to herself, “potential slayer here…not scared, not scared at all!” Snapping the revolver shut she glanced around at Jackie and tried to smile reassuringly, “Let’s go.” 

Jackie kissed her on the check and whispered, “For luck.”

The two girls crept into the kitchen, finding no one ready to pounce on them they relaxed a little.

“If we find someone,” Jackie asked, “do you really think you should shoot him?”

Kennedy thought about this, generally speaking the police frowned on people who shot people even when the ‘shootee’ was burgling your house.

“Two teens fighting off a rapist?” Kennedy mused, “I think we’ll get away with it.”

Taking a deep breath and holding the revolver out in front of her in the accepted cop-show fashion, Kennedy burst into the hall leaving Jackie in the kitchen. Crabbing along with her back to the wall and covering as many directions as possible with her pistol Kennedy worked her way towards the front door. It was only when she found the body at the foot of the stairs did she relax.

“It’s okay, Jackie,” she called out, “no rapists lying in wait for us.”

Jackie’s head appeared around the kitchen door, followed moments later by the rest of her, she walked quickly to stand next to Kennedy.

“You’re so brave,” she gushed, taking hold of Kennedy’s free hand; it was only then that she noticed the dead body and screamed.

Jumping away from both Kennedy and the body Jackie covered her mouth with her hand.

“You shot him!”

“No I didn’t,” Kennedy didn’t know what to do and Jackie wasn’t helping any by acting like a freaked schoolgirl…which of course she was, “Got to remember she’s not a potential,” Kennedy told herself quietly, then turning to her frightened friend she said; “He must have fallen down the stairs and broken his neck or something.”

Jackie recovered herself a little and stepped forward, she pointed to the body.

“What’s the hole in his chest then?” while not actually calling Kennedy a liar and possibly a murderer Jackie was suspicious.

“What…” began Kennedy only to be cut off by a shriek from the direction of the kitchen door.

“What have you done to Tarquin!?” screamed a well wrapped up young woman who looked accusingly at the two teenagers.

Without thinking Kennedy raised the revolver and fired. The heavy slug buried itself in the wall next to the woman’s head and covered her in plaster dust. Jackie and the woman screamed making Kennedy fire the revolver again from reflex. This time the woman was showered with wood splinters. Jackie and the woman screamed again. Kennedy tried to relax, she lowered the revolver.

“Everybody quit screaming!” she ordered loudly to the sound of fresh screams.

0=0=0=0


	6. Chapter 6

**Earlier that day.**

After a long breakfast Belinda collected her luggage from her room and then booked out of the hotel. Loading up her father’s Land Rover she drove out towards where Tarquin had set up his camp. Making slow but steady progress along the snow covered minor road she eventually got to the crossroads where she needed to turn right. It was at this point that she hesitated; did she really want to see Tarquin again? Wouldn’t it be easier to just drive on until she picked up the main road again and then head off home? A clean break as it were, no fuss no mess.

Sighing she turned the wheel and headed up the farm track towards the wood where Tarquin was camped. It might not be the sensible thing to do but it was the right thing to do; or so she told herself. Pulling the Land Rover off the track and under the trees before switching off the ignition and clambering out of the driver’s seat. Zipping up her jacket and pulling on her woolly hat and gloves she tramped off down an even rougher track before turning and plunging into the woods.

Here the ground only had a very thin covering of snow, but the branches of the pine trees were heavily laden with snow that would become dislodged as she passed and landed on her head and shoulders. After pushing herself through the snow covered trees she came to Tarquin’s camp site, only to find it deserted.

Following what she assumed were Tarquin’s tracks she followed his footprints across the fields. Realising that he had taken an indirect route, Belinda cut over the fields to the farm buildings that she had assumed was Tarquin’s target. Sure enough she picked up Tarquin’s trail again, it had been quite easy really; Tarquin’s were the only tracks in the pristine snow.

By now she was starting to think that this was an almighty waste of time and energy. Tarquin’s tracks headed off towards Mallard Grange, Belinda dutifully followed them all the time thinking that by the time she actually found Tarquin she would be so ‘pissed-off’ that she’d have no problem dumping him and giving him a piece of her mind. Coming up to The Grange she toyed with the idea of brazenly going up to the front door and ringing the bell. Dismissing the idea as foolish she worked her way around to the rear of the house where she found the back door unlocked.

Opening the door quietly she walked into a large kitchen; she noted the signs of use (dirty plates and cups scattered around every flat surface). Standing by a door that appeared to lead into the rest of the house she could hear what sounded like two teenage girls talking or arguing. Pushing the door open she stepped out into the hall to confront whoever was there and possibly save Tarquin from spending Christmas in jail; she was too late.

She saw two girls in their mid-teens standing over Tarquin’s motionless body which lay at the foot of a flight of stairs. Stepping forward she demanded to know what they had done to Tarquin, Belinda hadn’t noticed the gun in the brunette’s hand until it was pointed at her and fired. Bits of plaster hit the side of Belinda’s face as the bullet buried itself in the wall next to her head, she screamed. The girl with mousy hair screamed. The brunette fired again this time hitting Belinda with a shower of wood splinters from the door frame.

“Everybody quit screaming!” demanded the girl with the gun.

0=0=0=0

**The Grange.**

Kennedy said a silent prayer of thanks that the gun was either bent or her shooting was off today. Acting without any thought, she’d fired from pure instinct and she had meant to kill her target. Her body started to react as soon as the realisation of what she tried to do hit her.

Hold it together now, Kennedy, she told herself, aloud she said; “I’ve not shot anyone.”

“So what happened to Tarquin?” Belinda took a nervous step towards Kennedy.

“Who?” Jackie had regained some of her composure and was starting to take an interest again, the woman gestured to the body on the floor.

“He musta fallen down the stairs,” Kennedy pointed the revolver in the general direction of the woman. It was then she noticed how her hand was trembling and all the muscles in her face felt like they were twitching, “and just who the hell are you?” she asked trying to keep control of her voice and almost succeeding.

Belinda studied the girl as she pointed the gun at her with a shaking hand, she looked ill. In fact she looked as if she was going to throw-up any second. As if in answer to Belinda’s thought Kennedy suddenly clamped her hand over her mouth and made a dash for the bathroom down the corridor behind Belinda. As the door slammed behind her, Belinda and Jackie stood facing each other uncomfortably.

“As my friend said,” Jackie pulled herself up straight and looked the woman in the eye, “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my parents’ house?”

Violent retching sounds emanated from the bathroom.

“I was looking for my boyfriend…ex-boyfriend.” Belinda gestured towards the body, “I’m Belinda Harrington-Smythe by the way.”

“Jackie Carter-Brown,” Jackie replied absently, “Pleased to meet you,” she added politely. Kennedy sounded as if she was bringing up everything she’d eaten in the last couple of weeks, “Is that the Norfolk Harrington-Smythes or the Somerset Harrington-Smythe’s?”

“Norfolk,” Belinda glanced over her shoulder at the bathroom, it had gone ominously quiet. “I take it you’re the Yorkshire Carter-Brown’s, without the ‘e’?”

“That’s right.” Jackie glanced at the woman, “Excuse me,” she walked passed her to knock on the door of the bathroom, “Kennie? Are you alright in there?” There was a muffled answer from within, “You sure?” There was a sound from behind the door that might have been ‘yeah’.

Jackie turned back towards Belinda.

“So,” she tried to look annoyed and fierce, she actually looked like a worried mouse, “What’s a member of a good family like the Norfolk Harrington-Smythes doing having boyfriends who are burglars?”

Belinda tried to explain.

0=0=0=0

Kennedy looked at her reflection in the mirror and splashed more water on her face.

“Great slayer you’d be,” she admonished herself angrily, “not even killed anything and you’re throwing up…god! What would Doylie say if he knew?” She wiped her face with a hand towel and examined herself in the mirror again; she looked like a drowned rat. “At least I didn’t go all cry-baby…maybe later,” Kennedy gave her reflection a weak smile.

Pushing her hair away from her face and making sure that her eyes hadn’t gone all red-rimmed, Kennedy slowly became aware of the smoke that appeared from the corner of the bathroom. Turning away from the mirror she studied the grey-white smoke that appeared to billow directly out of the wall. Waving the smoke away with her hand Kennedy stepped forward to see if she could see where the smoke was coming from; she saw nothing at first. No crack, no flames nothing to explain what was happening.

“Jackie?” she called uncertainly.

A monstrous head suddenly appeared out of the smoke and snarled at her, Kennedy screamed and jumped back from the snapping fangs. Stumbling backwards as the rest of the creature slowly emerged out of the smoke, she got ready to scream. The monster opened its mouth and a long pink tongue flashed out at her. If it hadn’t been for her enhanced reactions the tongue would have hit her squarely in the middle of the chest, even so she was splattered with a sort of blue pus, some of which landed on her hands and face.

Jerking away from the snarling snapping jaws and the flashing tongue, Kennedy almost missed the great paw that slashed towards her ripping her jacket with its keen edged talon’s. Screaming as loudly as she could, her flailing hand came in contact with the cold hardness of the revolver lying on the cabinet next to the sink. Snatching up the weapon she jammed it into the monster’s face, closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.

The revolver sounded like a bomb going off in the confined space of the bathroom. Kennedy kept pulling the trigger even after she’d fired the remaining four cartridges and the hammer was falling on empty chambers. Slowly her ringing ears became aware of the frantic banging on the bathroom door and Jackie’s terrified voice screaming her name over and over again. There was the sound of splintering wood and the door flew open, for a moment the woman from the hall stood in the doorway until she was barged out of the way by an almost hysterical Jackie, she was just about to throw herself on her girlfriend when Kennedy held out her hands in front of her.

“Don’t touch me!” she ordered trying to stay away from her worried girlfriend; she could feel the blue gunk burning her skin. “Get it off me!”

The light of realisation came on behind Jackie’s eyes.

“Upstairs!” she ordered, “Get in the shower.”

Grabbing hold of Kennedy’s arm, heedless of the blue muck that started to burn her hand as well, Jackie dragged Kennedy out of the bathroom passed the body at the bottom of the stairs and up towards the bathroom on the first floor. By the time Jackie had tumbled them both into the shower and turned on the cold water, Kennedy was almost crying with the pain of the burning blue stuff. Jackie’s frenzied fingers worked under the freezing water to remove the gunk from Kennedy’s face and hands. Then making sure that she had none left on her own skin she turned off the water and held on to Kennedy as they both stood shivering in the shower.

“We better get these wet things off,” Jackie helped Kennedy out of the shower stall, “then you can tell me what the hell’s going on here.”

“Yes!” demanded Belinda from the door of the bathroom. “Just what the hell is going on here? First I find my boyfriend dead; then I get shot at and nearly killed. Then you get covered in some sort of caustic goo…I’m going to call the police!”

“Don’t!” ordered Kennedy disengaging herself from Jackie’s embrace.

“Try and stop me!” Belinda turned and started to head back down the corridor towards the stairs.

Having gone only a couple of paces she found herself thrown against the wall and held there; her arm was twisted painfully behind her back.

“Let go!” Belinda demanded as her nose was pushed into the wall paper, suddenly she found herself on her knees as her legs were kicked from under her, “Ow!” 

“No!” snapped Kennedy, she was trembling again but this time with anger, “One more stupid word outta you an’ I’ll break your freaking neck…understand?”

Weakly Belinda nodded her head as she was dragged back to her feet.

“What shall we do with her, Kennie?” Jackie walked along the corridor towards them.

Kennedy took a deep breath; why did everyone ask her what to do, she wondered, I’m sixteen how the hell should I know? She sighed and remembered what Doyle had told her; “…as The Slayer, people will look to you to tell them what to do; and every time they do you have to say the right thing, otherwise people die.”

“First we lock this one in a room without a phone,” she shook Belinda as she spoke, “then we get out of these wet things and try to work out what’s going on.”

0=0=0=0

Half an hour later they sat warm and dry in the kitchen, Belinda, after some coaxing, admitted that she knew how to cook, and was cleaning up the kitchen prior to preparing a meal. Kennedy explained to Jackie what had taken place in the bathroom. While Jackie listened intently Belinda had muttered something about being trapped in a house with murderers.

“You know I told you about all the odd things that used to happen here?” Jackie said after Kennedy had finished her tale, “Well this sounds like one of them…I’ve got some books in my room, I’ll go get them they might help.”

Jackie got up and headed towards her room, a few seconds later there was a cry from the hall.

“Kennie?” Jackie wailed from the hallway, “Can you do something about the body in the hall please?”

“Sure,” Kennedy stood up and headed for the door, she glanced at Belinda, “You can run if you want. I don’t care; it’s one less person to protect. But it’s snowing again and it’s almost fully dark out there. Maybe you’ll find your way to the road maybe you won’t…it depends how lucky you feel,” she almost added ‘Punk’ at the end, but instead walked out into the hall.

As she moved Tarquin’s, by now stiff, body into the dining room, Kennedy reflected on what they’d found in the bathroom. First they had found four bullet holes in the wall, but no dead monster. Kennedy knew she couldn’t have missed, not this time. The muzzle of the revolver had actually been in the creature’s mouth when she had stared to fire. Either the bullets had passed straight through it or it had ‘beamed out’ in some way. No matter, whatever had happened she decided she needed a bigger gun. They had found a lot of the blue gunk which they had carefully wiped up and flushed down the toilet except for one small sample that Jackie said she wanted to study. She’d put a small blob of the gloop into a test tube and sealed it with a cork.

After laying out Tarquin on the dinning room table, it seemed disrespectful somehow to leave him on the floor, Kennedy walked back into the kitchen to find Belinda chopping vegetables with a big sharp knife. Next she heard Jackie thunder down the stairs and clatter along the corridor the girl burst into the kitchen her face alight with breathless excitement; she clutched half a dozen old note books to her chest.

“Found them!” eagerly she sat down at the table, “I was worried that my mother would have thrown them away like she does with a lot of stuff I leave here.”

For a moment Kennedy reflected on how lucky she was to have a father who loved her and staff who always appeared pleased to see her when she got home.

“These,” Jackie placed the books on the table in front of her, “are my great-great-grandfather’s note books.”

Kennedy picked one up and flicked through the pages quickly. It was full of meticulously written notes and drawings of weird demonic creatures the like of which Kennedy had never seen in any of Mr Doyle’s demonology books.

“I found them years ago,” continued Jackie. “when my father was having the old library cleared out to turn it into the games room. Of course then I didn’t really understand what was written in them. I thought the Old Brigadier, as he was called, just liked writing horror stories and these were his notes. Then…”

“Then?” Kennedy prompted.

“Then,” Kennedy detected a slight tremor in Jackie voice, “I started to see a connection between the local folk tales and the notes in the book…and then one night I saw the Brigadier himself…or his ghost!”

“Oh don’t be daft, you silly little cow!” called Belinda mockingly from over by the stove, “It was probably your imagination brought on by reading those ridiculous old books. I know what’s going on here…and I think it’s got more to do with party drugs than monsters and ghosts.”

“Shut-up,” ordered Kennedy calmly. “and the next time you call my girlfriend a liar you’ll find yourself trussed up like a turkey and sharing the dining room with your dead boyfriend.”

Belinda became very quiet and went back to stirring her saucepans.

“Am I really?” asked Jackie beaming across the table at Kennedy.

“What?”

“Your girlfriend?”

“Sure,” replied Kennedy a little non-plused by the question.

“Oh good!” Jackie smiled like a loon, “It’s just that you never said…”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay…” Jackie took a deep breath and sighed while gazing longingly into Kennedy’s eyes.

“Oh god, I think I’m going to vomit,” Belinda muttered quietly from the stove.

“You were saying?” Kennedy nudged Jackie back onto the topic under discussion.

“Sorry…what?” Jackie returned from whatever pink fluffy paradise that she had drifted off to; back to the world of snow and monsters. “Right, yes, the description of the beastie you gave me reminded me of something I’d read.”

She held an opened notebook out to Kennedy who took it and started to read the hand written notes.

“Hound of Tindalos,” she read, “A hound of Tindalos is a horrendous quadruped which manifests itself through the corner angles of rooms in earthly structures, sending itself through time and space to attack any being on which it wishes to feed. A typical hound has a long, sinuous tongue and drips a putrid substance like pus…” 

There was a finely drawn sketch that matched what Kennedy had seen in the bathroom. The notes went on to explain how the creature would keep tracking its prey until it had caught and killed or died in the attempt. The notes also explained that the pus that dripped from the creature was a method of draining the ‘life-force’ from its victims, but it was easily wiped or washed off, leaving only a red mark on the skin that would soon fade away. What the book didn’t tell Kennedy, however, was how she was supposed to kill the thing.

“It seems,” Jackie’s voice broke into Kennedy’s thoughts, “that great-great-grandfather and his friends were demon hunters or something. They might even have been watchers.”

“Oh don’t be silly!” Belinda placed plates in front of the girls and put knives and forks next to them, “Your great-great-grandfather?” Jackie looked up at the woman and nodded, “That means he was in the Great War…”

Again Jackie nodded, while Belinda brought a big saucepan from the stove and started to spoon a rich meaty stew onto the girl’s plates.

“Well,” she started to spoon vegetables from another saucepan onto the plates, “that means he was probably a bit doolally from the war…you’re not vegetarians are you?” Both girls shook their heads and picked up their knives and forks. Belinda sat down behind her own plate, “I forgot to ask, anyway…I mean demons and monsters…I ask you? And what’s a ‘watcher’?”

“Someone who watches,” replied Kennedy between mouthfuls of rather good stew.

She shared a look with Jackie across the table; she really wished that the old soldier had been a looney. That would mean that whatever attacked her in the bathroom was just a figment of her over active imagination. It would mean that she could snuggle up with Jackie tonight and forget about the body in the dining room until tomorrow. As it was she had to figure out how to kill this hound thing before it killed them.

Kennedy mopped up gravy with a piece of potato. First she would need a bigger gun, and she knew just where she could find one.

0=0=0=0


	7. Chapter 7

**The Grange.**

Heaving dusty bric-à-brac aside Kennedy tried to widen the passage she and Jackie had made into the armoury. Putting her shoulder against an old wardrobe she succeeded in making enough room for her to open the armoury door fully. Swinging the door open she reached around the door frame and hit the light switch; the bulb made a ‘tink’ noise as it failed. Kennedy sighed angrily, although there was light entering the armoury from the store there wasn’t really enough to work by, thinking hard she remembered seeing some boxes that might well have contained light bulbs on a shelf in the main store.

After rummaging around for five minutes or so, Kennedy found a new bulb and replaced the dead one in the armoury. Looking about herself she noticed something had changed. When Jackie and herself first found their way in there had been not a speck of dust to be seen anywhere, now everything was covered by a thin layer of dust, there were even some spider webs forming in the corners of the room. Kennedy was more than a little puzzled; maybe they had broken some sort of seal when they’d first made their way into the room; she reasoned that the room must have been closed since at least the end of the Second World War. However, a childish little voice at the back of her mind kept saying that they had broken the spell that had been put on the room, and now time was catching up on it.

“Don’t be dumb,” Kennedy admonished herself, Magic? “All stuff’n’nonsense!” she did a passable imitation of Mr Doyle. 

Casting her eyes over the selection of weapons available to her; she decided needed stuff that was destructive but easy to operate. Going back out into the outer store she found a plastic bin liner. Picking up her chosen weapons she stuffed them in to the sack along with boxes of shells. Switching the light out she swung the sack over her shoulder and headed for the stairs; half way up the sounds of screams reached her ears.

0=0=0=0

Belinda busied herself cleaning up the kitchen.

“Where does the rubbish go?” she asked Jackie who sat at the table thumbing through the Brigadier’s old note books.

“What?” Jackie glanced up from her book.

“Rubbish,” repeated Belinda, “Where?”

“Who knows?” shrugging her shoulders Jackie went back to her book.

With an exasperated sigh Belinda heaved the bag of rubbish out of the bin and carried it to the backdoor. These girls had no idea how to look after themselves; she’d found evidence that they survived the past few days by eating only fried food. Belinda shivered with disgust and cold as she opened the back door. The temperature plummeted once darkness fell and the snow was coming down in big fluffy flakes. There was no wind, and it was so quiet that it seemed to Belinda that she could hear the snowflakes as they landed.

Ignoring the cold she stared out into the dark, these two girls were an odd pair, she mused, there was obviously something going on between them. Was it just a schoolgirl crush or something deeper? Belinda remembered having an almighty crush on a girl when she’d been at school; then she’d discovered boys and never thought of a girl ‘that way’ ever again. Shutting the door against the cold she walked back into the kitchen.

“Coffee?” she asked as she passed Jackie.

“Please.”

“What about your friend?” Belinda filled the kettle, thinking that at least the two girls were polite.

“Hmm?” Jackie put down her book, “Oh Kennie…you might as well.”

“What’s all this stuff about monsters and things?” Belinda busied herself with the coffee things, “You know its just stories…monsters aren’t real.”

“But they are!” Jackie looked around the room expecting monsters to jump out of every shadow at her, “I know I’ve seen them…one took me you see.”

Belinda couldn’t help but notice the look of fear on the girl’s face; it was becoming obvious to Belinda that Jackie was hiding some dark secret.

“Kennie found me again, an’ ever since she’s looked after me,” Jackie felt uncomfortable telling even this to a stranger, “her and Mr Doyle.”

“Mr Doyle?” Belinda poured hot coffee into the cups, “Who’s he?”

“Just a teacher at school.”

Ah! Thought Belinda, there it is, some dirty old man fills the ‘lonely girl’s’ head with stories of monsters that only he and his young confederate can keep her safe from. Probably playing on some old trauma. Belinda noticed the steam that boiled up around her for the first time. 

“Must have forgotten to switch off the kettle,” she turned to see smoke pouring out of a crack between the working surface and the wall. “Quick!” she called, “We’re on fire…outside!”

A great talon tipped paw materialised out of the smoke and slashed at her. Jumping back just in time Belinda dodged the attack and rushed over to where Jackie stood.

“My god!” cried Belinda as she wrapped her arms protectively around Jackie, “What was that?”

“I told you,” Jackie replied quietly, “the monsters are real.”

0=0=0=0

As Kennedy sprinted up the stairs the sounds of a desperate battle came to her ears, she could hear Jackie and the Belinda woman scream as things were smashed as the battle raged in the kitchen. Gaining the hall, Kennedy dumped the contents of her sack onto the floor. Scrabbling about on hands and knees, she loaded cartridges into her weapon with fingers that felt and acted like bananas. Taking a handful of spare shells she stuffed them into her jean’s pocket. Climbing back to her feet she rushed towards the kitchen, the sounds of screams, crockery and furniture breaking adding wings to her feet.

Diving through the door, Kennedy rolled across the kitchen floor, pieces of broken cups and plates stuck into her arms and back. Springing to her feet again shelevelled the sawn off shotgun at the vile creature that threatened her friend and their hostage. Pulling the triggers and the gun boomed in her hands sending a deadly spray of shot into the pus dripping horror that had turned to snarl at her. The shotgun bucked in her hands sending her sliding onto her bottom and across the debris littered floor. The foul monster was blown across the room by the force of the blast, as it spun on the slippery floor it splattered stinking blue pus across the floor and walls.

Coming to a halt when her shoulders came into violent contact with a cupboard unit. She shook her head to clear it of the ringing from the shotgun blast and the minor concussion from hitting the cupboard; her eyes slowly focused on the vicious growling beast as it slowly got to its feet and shook off the effects of being shot. Desperately Kennedy broke open the shotgun and ejected the spent shells. Digging into her pocket she grasped two new cartridges and tried to reload.

On her first attempt a cartridge fell from her trembling fingers and landed on the floor to roll out of reach. Tears of fear and frustration blurred her eyes as she managed to thumb the other shell home. Digging in her pocket for another cartridge she saw the Hound from Hell pull itself to its feet and turn towards her gathering its muscles ready to pounce. 

The second shell slid easily into the empty chamber; Kennedy snapped the shotgun closed as the monster leapt towards her, she brought up the weapon and fired. The blast hit the monster in mid-leap knocking it sideways across the kitchen to slam into the wall. Once more the shotgun bucked in her hands to spring up and hit her on the forehead and stun her.

The monster smashed into the wall and slid to the floor dripping pus onto the floor. It shook its head and tried to regain its feet. Its body trembled with exertion as it tried to pull itself back to its paws. Giving a sort of strangled roar it fell on to its side, after giving a couple of great heaving breaths its ribs stopped moving and it lay still and quiet in the corner of the wrecked kitchen.

0=0=0=0

“Kennie?” Kennedy seemed to hear a voice from very far away, “Kennie, wake-up!” Somebody shook her urgently, “Kennedy, please wake-up.”

“Cinco más minutes, Maria,” Kennedy tried to retreat into the warm, black security of unconsciousness.

“Who’s Maria?” asked Belinda as she flicked cold water in Kennedy’s face.

“Her maid or housekeeper or something when she was little,” explained Jackie, telling herself she wasn’t at all upset Kennedy hadn’t called her name.

“Hey,” groaned Kennedy wiping at the water on her face with her arm, “it’s raining…” her eyes flickered open, “Hi Jackie…” Kennedy had a dazed smile on her face as she tried to focus on her girlfriend, “...how come it’s raining?”

“Come on, Kennie,” Jackie tried to sound stern but couldn’t quite manage it, the concern for her friend kept showing through, “Time to get up…monsters to slay!”

“Hmm?” Kennedy pushed herself up on to her elbows.

“I think you should stay lying down for a bit,” Belinda put down the cup of water and felt for Kennedy’s pulse. “You might have a concussion,” she held up three fingers in front of Kennedy’s blinking eyes, “how many?”

“Three and a half,” Kennedy squirmed around trying to get a look at her first real slay.

“Who’s the Prime Minister?” Belinda persisted.

“How the hell should I know?” Kennedy looked at the woman as if she was mad, “I’m a sixteen year old American High School student…I’ve more important things on my mind than stupid politicians!”

“That’s Kennedy,” sighed Jackie as she helped her girlfriend to her feet, “she’s tough, she’ll be fine.”

Belinda looked unconvinced.

“Did I get it?” Kennedy asked eagerly.

“Yeah you got it,” replied Jackie proudly, she stood aside to let Kennedy see her kill.

“Yay me!” Kennedy punched the air and nearly fell over; Jackie grabbed at her and held her upright.

“What is that thing?” demanded Belinda staying away from the creature.

“Told you,” Jackie said knowingly, as she helped Kennedy over to the dead monster so she could get a better look, “It’s a Hound of Tindalos thingy like it said in the book.”

“Rubbish,” Belinda took a step towards the creature and then thought better of it and stepped back, “Its some animal that’s escaped from a zoo or something.”

“What?” screeched Jackie turning on Belinda and nearly dropping Kennedy, she glared at the woman, “Have you ever seen anything like that before?” she pointed a trembling finger at the corpse, “have you ever seen David, bleedin’, Attenborough creep up on anything like this an’ say, ‘and here we have the lesser spotted Hound of Tindalos’?” Jackie sneered as the older woman refused to answer. “Well, have you?”

“Well,” admitted Belinda reluctantly, “not as such, but…”

“No, ‘ifs’ or ‘buts’ or ‘buttered nuts’,” the mention of ‘buttered nuts’ got Jackie a funny look from both Kennedy and Belinda; “it’s a monster full stop…right?”

“Yeah okay,” Belinda finally had to admit that the girl was probably right.

“Good,” Jackie let out a long sigh and relaxed.

“Way to go, Jackie.” Kennedy smiled at her girlfriend, “I’m obviously rubbing off on you.”

“Y-you are?” stuttered Jackie in surprise, “You can if you want to…oh! You mean…”

A short embarrassed silence passed over the room.

0=0=0=0

“So we’re safe now?” asked Belinda a she swept up around the dead monster, “You killed it, so we’re okay…right?”

Kennedy eyed the woman who seemed to have a mania for cleaning, but then different people dealt with monsters in different ways.

“Not necessarily,” Jackie flicked through the pages of her ancient relatives notebook, “there might be more of them…they might be attracted by the smell of the dead one, and…” she turned pages rapidly, “there’s absolutely nothing about actually killing these things.”

“Right,” Kennedy got unsteadily up from the chair she’d been sitting on, she turned to Belinda. “For the love of Mickey Mouse stop trying to clean up after the monsters,” dejectedly Belinda put down her mop. “Let’s move into the lounge and make ourselves comfy.” Kennedy nodded to Jackie, “Pick up the guns and ammo, we’re probably going to need them, you,” Kennedy gestured at Belinda, “You’re in charge of food and drink. Enough to last the night, tomorrow we’re out of here.”

“Who died and made you queen?” asked Belinda a bit miffed at being ordered around by a teenager.   
Kennedy nodded at the dead monster. “That did.” 

“Yeah,” agreed Jackie, “When you kill the monster you can be in charge…until then Kennie’s it.”

0=0=0=0

For the second time tonight Kennedy found herself in the armoury, she had come down to collect some more shotgun shells but her eyes kept drifting over to the Lewis Gun on the workbench. She ran her fingers over the weapon and felt a strange thrill pass through her body. It would be so cool if she could get it to work.

Smiling to herself she tucked the butt under her arm and hauled back on the cocking handle. Grinning like a maniac she felt the working parts slide smoothly back and lock into position. Checking the safety was off she pulled the trigger and heard the bolt fly forward with a satisfying ‘clack!’ Cocking the weapon again and locking the working parts to the rear, she looked into the receiver; everything looked fine nothing appeared to be damaged, putting her finger into the gap between the breach-block and the barrel; she felt the end of the firing pin protruding from the bolt. Turning the weapon around she looked down the barrel. Everything looked bright and clean, no potatoes growing in the rifling.

Easing the working parts forward again before putting the machine gun down, Kennedy glanced around the room. All she needed now were some magazines and ammunition, she started to pull open cupboards and open boxes. There had to be some somewhere, after all; who kept a machine gun without all the fun stuff to make it work?

0=0=0=0

“What the hell is that?” demanded Belinda as Kennedy staggered into the lounge; machine gun over one shoulder and a canvas bag full of ammunition and spare magazines over the other.

“Cool!” grinned Jackie getting up to relieve Kennedy of the ammo and magazines.

“A Lewis Light Machine Gun,” announced Kennedy proudly as she rested the butt of the weapon on the floor and rubbed her shoulder. “Though I don’t know why they call it ‘Light’.”

“Maybe its one of those relative things?” suggested Jackie dragging the bag to the table and dumping it there.

“But it’s huge!” complained Belinda.

“And who said size doesn’t matter?” sniggering Kennedy rested the machine gun on the floor. “Okay, let’s get to work.”

0=0=0=0

After explaining the workings of the mercifully simple sawn off shotguns to Jackie and Belinda. The three young women sat on the floor and started to load bullets into the Lewis Gun’s magazines.

“You know it’s Christmas Eve?” announced Belinda as she slipped cartridges into the drum like magazine.

“Merry Christmas and a happy new monster,” quipped Kennedy, she received a weak smile from Jackie and a puzzled look from Belinda. “I bet you didn’t think you’d be doing this when you got up this morning. I certainly had other plans for tonight,” she winked at Jackie who blushed scarlet.

“I was going to dump my boyfriend and go home,” admitted Belinda sadly.

“Boyfriend?” Jackie looked up from her work to glance at the older woman.

“Yeah,” Belinda nodded towards the dinning room where Tarquin still lay.

“Oh dead-boy,” muttered Kennedy.

“Hey!” Belinda stopped working and looked at Kennedy angrily, “He might have been an arsehole, but he was my arsehole and he’s dead now so…”

“Sorry,” Kennedy couldn’t help but grin at Jackie.

“I’ve not had much luck with boyfriends lately,” Belinda went back to feeding rounds into the magazine, “I always seem to pick the fanatics or complete drips.”

“Maybe you should try girls,” Jackie suggested helpfully.

“Umm, no thanks,” Belinda put the full magazine on the coffee table, “There, that’s full, any more?”

“Yeah, we’ve got two more but not enough rounds I’ll go back down stairs and get another box,” Kennedy climbed to her feet and moved towards the door; she picked up the revolver she’d been using earlier and checked that it was fully loaded.

“I won’t be long,” she snapped the pistol closed, “remember watch the corners and don’t shoot me when I come back, okay?” Kennedy opened he door and stepped into the hall.

0=0=0=0

“She’s very…capable,” Jackie looked up at Belinda as she spoke, “Your, umm girlfriend…very ‘in charge’.”

“Yeah,” Jackie pressed the last few rounds into her magazine, “see, she’s a potential.”

Belinda could hear the pride in the teenager’s voice; she’d obviously ‘got it’ bad.

“Potential what?” Belinda focused on the odd word.

“Umm, just um potential…you know?”

“No I don’t,” Belinda wanted to find out what was going on here, it was obvious to anyone that Kennedy wasn’t an ordinary teenage girl, “Why don’t you tell me?”

“Can’t,” Jackie looked down into her lap; she seemed to be withdrawing into herself.

“Okay,” said Belinda airily. “doesn’t matter…I’m sure it’s not important anyway, some teen thing I expect.”

“It’s not!” There was a flash of anger in Jackie’s eyes as she looked up, “It’s very important…Kennie’s going to be ‘The Slayer’, she’s going to save the world!”

Wow! Thought Belinda, touched a nerve there. Whatever these two girls were into they really believed in it. Belinda watched as Jackie retreated into herself again, maybe when she got home she’d find out what was going on at this girls’ school…ask Daddy he had connections. 

“Coke?” asked Belinda as if nothing had happened.

0=0=0=0

Kennedy climbed the steps from the basement, pistol in one hand ammo box in the other. It had been the only one she had been able to find and it was only half full. It would have to do, all they needed to do was hold out until morning then they could get themselves out of this death trap. Why hadn’t they stayed in the apartment down in London, where there were no weird monsters.

Stepping out into the hall she glanced around, no sign of any more monsters here either. Maybe that was the only one and they’d spend an unnecessarily uncomfortable night camped out in the lounge for no good reason. Another thought struck her, how the hell were they going to explain everything? The thought stopped Kennedy dead in her tracks; maybe Doylie and his friends in the Watchers Council could cover it all up, and what were Jackie’s parents going to say about the mess…and the dead body on the dinning room table?

Deciding that what angry adults were going to say or do could wait until after the present emergency was over, Kennedy turned her feet towards the lounge and then stopped again. Retracing her footsteps she went back into the kitchen, she wanted to have another look at her first ‘slay’. After all it wasn’t every potential that got to blow away a monster before she’d even been called. Kennedy stepped into the kitchen and looked at the spot where the hound had lain; it was empty! Instantly she levelled the revolver and trained it on the monster free room.

“Ocrapocrapocrap,” Kennedy whispered as she backed up into a corner and nearly wet herself when she realised that it was probably not the best place to stand.

Dashing from the kitchen and along the hall, Kennedy burst into the lounge and slammed the door behind her. Resting her back against the door she stood and panted.

“What’s wrong?” asked Jackie glad to see Kennedy back again, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost…” the smile faded from Jackie’s lips, “...you’ve not seen a ghost have you?”

“No…no,” Kennedy tried to regain control of herself, but her heart was pounding so hard she was sure everyone could hear, “It’s gone…did either of you move it?”

“Move what?” Jackie and Belinda asked almost simultaneously.

“The hound!”

0=0=0=0


	8. Chapter 8

**The Grange.**

Razor sharp black talons punched their way through the door next to Kennedy’s head.

“Aaagh!” she screamed and ducked away from the door, there was an incredibly loud boom as Belinda fired her sawn-off.

A hole the size of a dinner plate appeared in the door where Kennedy’s head had been seconds before. Belinda’s shotgun boomed again and enlarged the hole. Everything went quiet, the only sound being Belinda reloading her gun. Dumping the spare ammo and the pistol Kennedy went for the Lewis gun.

“Watch the corners!” she ordered as she put the Lewis’ carrying strap over her left shoulder and tucked the butt under her right arm.

The three women formed themselves into a loose triangle facing outwards.

“Don’t forget,” Kennedy hauled back on the cocking handle readying her weapon for action, “long, uncontrolled bursts.”

“Shouldn’t that be ‘short, controlled bursts’?” Belinda asked over her shoulder.

“You play your game,” Kennedy scanned the room for monsters, “I’ll play mine.”

“Corner!” Jackie called and fired at the same time; her first shot shredded an arm chair while her second broke the glass doors of a bookcase several feet from where the hound appeared from out of the corner by the ceiling.

Kennedy spun around and fired the Lewis at the materialising creature. Plaster fell from the walls and ceiling and the lights went out, hot brass tinkled onto the floor. Releasing the trigger Kennedy looked for the hound, it had gone.

“There!” cried Belinda firing twice in rapid succession.

The double blast of buck shot hit the emerging hound in the shoulder and it staggered to one side. Kennedy fired a long burst into the beast. The muzzle flash from the Lewis’ barrel lighting up the room like a strobe in a disco, while empty cases piled up around her feet. The hound slumped to the floor and lay still, Jackie moved forward and fired, point-blank, at the creature’s head. She succeeded in blowing a gaping hole in the carpet.

“Umm, Jackie,” Kennedy spoke into the sudden silence, “I think you should quit shooting, for real…please?”

“But…but I want to help,” Jackie looked miserable in the flickering fire light; she held her shotgun dejectedly in one hand as she swung it back and forth by her leg.

“You can,” Kennedy reached forward and took the gun from Jackie’s hand, “you can be my ammo carrier.” Jackie looked at her puzzled, “What you do is load the mags and hand me fresh ones when I yell…it’s really important…okay?”

“Okay,” Jackie slumped down onto the coffee table in the middle of the room and started to feed loose rounds into an empty magazine; she’d so wanted to prove to Kennedy that she wasn’t helpless. Now here she was sitting at the back again doing the monster killing equivalent of making the tea and sandwiches.

While this had been going on Belinda had walked over to the hound and kicked it. Thinking that it had been an incredibly stupid thing to do she decided that the ‘thing’ was probably dead.

“I think its dead,” she called across the room, Kennedy came over to look.

“That’s what we said about the last one,” she pointed out.

“Spoil sport,” muttered Belinda, “shouldn’t we get the lights back on?”

“You want to go down stairs to get a new bulb?” Kennedy asked.

“Wouldn’t be my first choice, Kenny…do you mind if I call you Kenny?” Belinda started to babble a little, “I mean Kennedy sounds so formal what with us having shot monsters together.”

Jackie cast Belinda a jealous look, no one called Kennedy ‘Kenny’ except her.

“Yeah that’s fine,” agreed Kennedy.

Jackie frowned and muttered ‘Bitch’ under her breath.

“I’m Bee as in Buzz-Buzz.” Belinda informed the room, “It’s a childhood thing.”

“Nice to meet you, Bee, I won’t shake hands if you don’t mind,” Kennedy shifted the weight of the Lewis Gun in her hands.

“Bitch,” repeated Jackie quietly as she fed cartridges angrily into the magazine on her lap, “she’s my girlfriend, get y’own.”

“What’s that, Jackie?” Kennedy turned to look at her girlfriend while Belinda went to look out the window.

“Snow’s stopped and the sky’s cleared,” Belinda let the curtain fall back into place, “It’ll be a hard frost tonight, by morning the…it’s gone!”

“What?” Kennedy turned bringing the Lewis to bear on the spot where the hound had been, Jackie jumped up and grabbed hold of Kennedy’s arm.

“Where?” she asked.

Smoke poured from the corner of the room by the TV. Belinda turned and fired in one easy movement. The TV tube exploded with a bang and the tinkle of breaking glass, shot from her second cartridge hit the expanding hound in the side of the head but didn’t seem to slow it down. Kennedy pointed the Lewis and fired.

High velocity rounds struck all around the monster and drilled into its flesh but still it pulled itself from whatever dimension it inhabited into the lounge. After about a dozen rounds the Lewis stopped.

“Ammo!” screamed Kennedy as she twisted the empty magazine free and let it fall onto the floor.

Belinda searched her pockets for spare shells, she found none! Diving for the opened box of cartridges on the table she sent it flying across the floor spilling cartridges as it spun through the air. The hound was almost completely in the room by now.

Helplessly Jackie crouched on the floor and watched as Kennedy struggled to fit the new magazine, it didn’t seem to want to fit, had she done something to break it? The hound gathered itself ready to attack as Jackie’s eyes fell on the discarded pistol. Grabbing for the heavy weapon she held it in both hands and jerked the trigger. Each time the revolver fired the flash from its muzzle lit up the room. The heavy lead slugs hit the hound with a wet ‘thwack!’ making the beast stagger at each impact. The pistol clicked on empty just as Kennedy opened up with the Lewis.

Once again the room was full of the noise and flame of the machine gun as it threw back the hound to whence it had come, leaving only a smear of red blood and blue pus on the bullet pocked walls to mark its passing. Kennedy stopped firing and slumped onto the floor next to Jackie.

“That’s my girl,” she gasped breathing heavily from exertion and excitement.

She twisted off the used magazine and passed it to Jackie as she offered Kennedy a fully loaded one.

“Thank you, sweet-heart,” Kennedy leant over and kissed Jackie on the check, “you alright, Bee?”

“Yeah…sure,” Belinda crawled about on the floor picking up loose shells and stuffing them into her pockets.

“I hate to say this guys,” Kennedy rested her head wearily on Jackie’s shoulder and drew a little courage from her girlfriend’s presence, “but I think the time has come to leave.”

“Why?” asked Belinda still picking up the last of the spilt cartridges.

“That book said something about ‘corners of structures’?” Jackie nodded her head in agreement, Kennedy continued, “I think we might be safer outside…less corners you see?”

Belinda checked down the barrels of her shotgun before reloading, “Sounds fair enough to me,” she admitted snapping the gun closed.

“But what shall I tell my parents about the mess?” wailed Jackie as she collected the full magazines together and put them into the bag. 

“Tell them the butler did it,” suggested Kennedy with a wry chuckle.

“Yeah,” agreed Belinda picking up spare boxes of shotgun shells. “in the conservatory with the Lewis Gun!” She laughed at the look on Jackie’s face, “Don’t worry we’ll think of something.”

0=0=0=0

“Okay,” said Jackie as they clustered together in the hall, “where do we go?”

They were all dressed in their warmest clothes and armed to the teeth, but had no idea where they would be safe.

“I’ve got a Land Rover parked up in the woods,” announced Belinda suddenly becoming the centre of attention, “If it still works we might be able to drive down into Ripon or somewhere.”

“Sounds good to me,” Kennedy waited for any counter argument; Jackie nodded her head, “Okay then, Bee, lead on.”

Without a backward glance the three opened the front door and headed out into the starlit night.

0=0=0=0

The snow squeaked under foot; they gasped as they laboured across the snow covered fields. A bright moon shone down making the snow sparkle with thousands of ice crystals that made it look as if they were walking on diamonds. Their breath rose in great swirls of mist as they struggled through the deep snow. At the rear of the little column Kennedy glanced back towards the house.

“Darn,” she breathed quietly. 

She stopped to study the ground behind her, she was sure she had seen something big and powerful move between The Grange and the servant’s quarters at the rear of the house. Squinting down at the house she caught sight of it as it sniffed the air searching for their trail, it wouldn’t be long before it found them, unless…

“Wait up, guys,” Kennedy called quietly, Jackie and Belinda turned to face her, “it’s going to be coming after us.”

“We’ll have to fight it again.” More of a statement than a question came from Jackie’s lips as she stumbled through the snow towards Kennedy.

“Half right,” Kennedy admitted, she looked at Belinda, “Bee? Get Jackie away from here then get yourselves to safety. Jackie, leave me the ammo and go with Bee.”

“No!” Jackie stood defiantly in the snow, “I won’t leave...who’ll reload for you? Who’ll…”

“I’ll manage,” Kennedy walked forward and took the bag from Jackie.

“You sure?” asked Belinda, “Can’t we outrun that thing, and then when we’re in the Rover we’ll be able to…” The older woman looked into the teenager’s eyes and saw the answer there for herself, they said; ‘We can’t be sure’.

“Look,” Kennedy dropped the bag into the snow and tried to smile at her friend reassuringly, “Me and old Lewis,” she patted the gun, “will deal, then I’ll be along and we’ll party…so get goin’.”

“But Kenny…” Jackie tried to run to Kennedy but Belinda held her back.

“Go on,” Kennedy ordered quietly, “get going…I’ll see you later.”

She turned her back on her comrades and walked a little way back down the slope before sitting down in the snow. She could hear Jackie crying and complaining as Belinda dragged her away. She wiped the tears from her own eyes and started to dig herself a shallow hole in the snow so she could lie down.

“So this is what it’s like to be The Slayer,” she said with a bitter laugh, “even have to dig your own grave.”

The hound was sniffing around their tracks down by the house as Kennedy settled herself into her ‘scrape’. She flicked down the Lewis gun’s bipod and dragged the spare magazines closer to hand. The hound found their trail and had started to trot up the slope towards where Kennedy hid. She raised the back-sight and adjusted it for three-hundred yards. Snuggling up to the weapon’s butt she sighted on the creature, cocked the Lewis and after a pause to control her breathing, she fired.

Plumes of snow fountained up behind the hound as it ran across the slope zigzagging its way towards her.

“Not leading it by enough,” Kennedy shifted her aim and fired again.

This time the hound was the centre of a whirlwind of snow and lead as the rounds impacted the snow around it. For a moment the beast was knocked off its feet as several rounds slammed into its side. For an instant Kennedy almost cheered thinking she had killed or stopped it, the cry died in her throat as the monster picked itself up and continued to advance.

0=0=0=0

Farmer Hepplethwaite stood in his yard and listened to the sound of steady machine gun fire that came to him over the frozen fields. Down by his Wellington booted feet Shep stood and growled deep down in his throat.

“Get down, Shep,” the farmer said comfortingly to his dog.

Shifting his shotgun under his arm Obadiah tried to puzzle out what was going on. The cold and the machine gun fire reminded him of the Falklands when he had been one of the Marines retaking the islands from the Argies. The gunfire stopped for a moment before picking up again, this time it was a long slow burst of fire that stopped suddenly after thirty seconds or so.

“What’s going on, Obadiah?” called his wife from the back door.

“It’s nothing, luv,” he called back, “I expect its t’army doin’ an’ exercise or out… go back inside.” Obadiah checked the breach of his shotgun for shells and started to walk towards the sound of the gun. “Just going to check on t’sheep, you go back inside, I won’t be long…come on, Shep.”

0=0=0=0

Kennedy fumbled with the new magazine, so far she’d been unable to stop the creature, but at least it was coming after her instead of chasing Jackie and Bee. It was less than fifty yards away and coming on fast when Kennedy finally got the new drum seated properly. Getting up on her knees she aimed at the hound as it flew across the snow towards her, jaws agape and teeth glinting in the moonlight.

Shooting from the hip Kennedy fired as the hound leapt at her. The flame from the Lewis’ barrel seemed to hold the hound suspended in mid-air for a second as it reached for her with its wicked claws. Empty cases hissed into the snow as the magazine rapidly emptied itself and Kennedy screamed in a mixture of fear, anger and frustration.

“Screw you!” she shrieked and lashed out with the empty gun as the monster fell on top of her, crushing her into the snow.

0=0=0=0

Jackie buried her face in Belinda’s jacket when she heard the machine gun fire stop and the silence drag on and on. Gently pushing Jackie away Belinda tried to start the Landrover’s engine again.

0=0=0=0

Obadiah ran across the snow with Shep bounding after him. As he got closer to the ominous dark mound in the snow he slowed to a walk and brought his shotgun up to the ready. Shep lay down in the snow and glanced over at the farmer waiting for instructions.

As he got closer Obadiah could see it was some sort of animal lying dead in the snow, they were muffled cries coming from underneath it. Standing over the carcass he could see a hand and part of an arm sticking out from under the creature. Putting a booted foot on the creatures back he gave a mighty push and rolled the thing over onto its side.

“Stupid, freaking, stinking, pukesome bastard!” yelled Kennedy as she crawled from underneath the creature.

Staggering to her feet she aimed a kick at the hound’s head, her foot connected with a resounding ‘thud’.

“How you like those freaking apples, asshole!?” she kicked the corpse again. “Think you could get the better of Kennedy the Freaking Monster Slayer? Huh!? Punk!” again she kicked the prostrate monster.

“Excuse me, Miss,” the farmer’s voice seemed to calm Kennedy and she stopped attacking the ex-monster; Shep stood by his master and regarded the blood and gunk splattered woman with his head tilted to one side.

“Hmm? Yes?” Kennedy straightened herself up and pulled some of her snow and goo covered hair from her face. “Can I help you?” she asked, once more being the well brought up young woman she tried to be when she wasn’t machine gunning trans-dimensional monsters.

“Well actually, lass,” Obadiah took a step back from the brittle voiced young woman, “I were goin’ t’ask thee if th’needed help.”

“No thank-you,” Kennedy smiled politely, “I’m fine thank-you…now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to find my friends.” She turned away from the farmer and fell flat on her face in the snow.

0=0=0=0

**Linton Park Academy**

Jackie sat astride Kennedy’s tummy, it was a bit of a tight squeeze but the two girls somehow managed to get into one bed.

“I don’t think Mr Doyle was too pleased having to drive all the way up to Yorkshire to get us,” Jackie took off her glasses and put them on the bed side table, “Darn,” she complained, “now you’re just a big pink blur!”

“Watch who you’re calling ‘big’ four eyes!” Kennedy jerked up with her hips nearly dislodging Jackie from her comfy seat, “Anyway it was Christmas Day,” Kennedy settled back on the bed again, she didn’t really want to dislodge Jackie. “The roads were clear; he made it in record time; and I think he secretly enjoyed it, reminded him of his spy days…made him look all macho in front of Bridget. I bet they’re shagging like a couple of geriatric bunnies right now!”

“What, down a deep dark hole, hanging on to their Zimmer frames?” Jackie giggled and bent down to kiss Kennedy on the lips.

For a minute…well, for several minutes the girls kissed passionately, coming up for air Jackie looked closely at the big flesh coloured blob that was her girlfriend.

“You’re definitely rubbing off on me,” Jackie wriggled into a more comfortable position, “A few months ago I’d never have dreamt of saying anything like that about teachers.”

“No,” Kennedy replied in mock solemnity, “I think in this position you’re definitely rubbing off one me!”

0=0=0=0

**Clip’d Thorn Farm, North Yorkshire.**

Every time Farmer Hepplethwaite drove past the patch of scorched earth and soot stained snow he couldn’t help but think about what had happened the previous week - the man who’d driven all the way from London on Christmas Day to pick up the two teenagers and talk to him and that young posh woman.

Obadiah had seen his sort before when he’d been a marine, the men with the hard eyes who didn’t say much to people outside their tight cycle of friends. The London man was definitely ex-Special Forces, as were the four guys who had come early on Boxing Day to burn the body of the beast that had attacked the dark haired American girl. They had cleaned the area of discarded weapons and even cleared up all the expended cases from the snow.

He had watched from the woods as they had moved down to the Grange and removed several boxes from the old manor and put them into the back of a non-descript van. Towards evening there had been a small fire at the Grange that went out before the fire brigade could get there, what with the roads being blocked by snow and all. Just after he had got home that evening a man in a suit arrived on his doorstep, the ‘suit’ made Obadiah and his wife sign several official looking forms stating they would say nothing to anyone about anything unusual that might, or might not have happened over the last few days. When the ‘suit’ left he handed Obadiah an envelope containing £5000 in used notes, thanking the couple for their co-operation he got into a car and drove off into the night.

0=0=0=0

**Mallard Grange.**

Returning from their Christmas break in the south of France, Mr and Mrs Carter-Brown were surprised to find Mrs Wetherby had called in the builders. It appeared that their butler, Smithers, instead of looking after the house over the holiday period had gone mad and shot up the house and then tried to burn it down. Luckily most of the damage was confined to the lounge, down stairs bathroom and kitchen. He had also cut strange symbols into the rear lawn which would need replacing come spring.

Smithers’ body had been found a couple of miles away in the woods; he seemed to have been wandering aimlessly and died of exposure. The Carter-Brown’s thanked Mrs Wetherby for her display of initiative and started looking for a replacement butler. While they were doing this, they never once wondered where their only child, Jackie, had been over the Christmas holiday.

THE END.

0=0=0=0

**Notes.**

Ray Doyle belongs to whoever owns the rights for ‘The Professionals’ TV show.

The Hound of Tindalos was taken from Chaosium Inc’s book ‘S. Petersen’s Field Guide to Cthulhu Monsters’. Additional information was taken from the ‘Call of Cthulhu’ rule book by the same company. Both works are based on the writings of H.P.Lovecraft.

The original idea for ‘Kennedy’ belongs to Joss Whedon. 

All other characters are of my own invention and do not represent any person living, dead or undead.

The author’s low opinion of all things ‘Northern’ are due to childhood issues and should not put people off visiting Northern England.


End file.
